The Man Beneath the Braid
by Shunyata Ryuen
Summary: With Hotohori's help, Nuriko takes his first steps towards acting like a man--but, just when things are going well, the young seishi vanishes. Where is Nuriko? [Beware of shounen ai. Can be understood without having read
1. The Man Beneath the Braid - 1

DISCLAIMER: Nope

DISCLAIMER:Nope.Still not mine. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:This is, as you will quickly discover, the sequel to my recent fic, "The Man Beneath the Crown."I don't think reading the previous story is entirely necessary to understanding all of this fic...but, it'll help...a lot.:)Also, this is going to be more of a chapter-oriented work, as I've reached about three pages into it and have found myself out of steam.Thus...I give you this, ask for your comments, and will continue, hopefully, on a more writer-friendly day. ^_^.

*PS:I apologize, once again, for the spacing.MS Word is, indeed, the devil.

"The Man Beneath the Braid"

by Ryuen

~*~*~*~

Nuriko's slim fingers flew to his head, touched protectively at the long, silken strands that flooded loosely about his shoulders."My hair?" he echoed quietly.He blinked, gazed out at the young emperor a bit suspiciously."What's wrong with my hair?"  
Lounging comfortably in one of his balcony tea chairs, Hotohori drew another light sip from his cup, hid a smile beneath it."There's nothing wrong with it," he explained slowly, replacing the cup on its saucer."But...it's not exactly...well, the kind of style a man would typically wear."  
Nuriko glared at him."I'm not going to cut my hair."  
"I'm not asking you to.But..."Hotohori studied him for a moment, taking in the long, impressive waves of silken violet flooding down past Nuriko's waist, the slim, partially-covered shoulders, the soft blue dress flooding down to his ankles...gods.This was going to be more difficult than he'd thought...The young emperor drew in another soft breath, let it out slowly through his nostrils and folded his hands over the tablecloth."It might be a good idea...if you're serious about making yourself look like a man again..."He drew in another short breath."You might want to wear it so it looks a bit more...masculine."  
The violet-haired boy scrunched up his nose, pointed a slim finger towards Hotohori's head."You can't tell me those buns are comfortable," he challenged.

The young emperor stared at him for a moment, then brought a hand to his own silken hair, smoothed at it gently."You would get used to it, Nuriko.It's actually very comfortable..."

Nuriko managed to look disgusted, even as he brought the lightly-flavored tea to his lips, drew in a quick sip."No," he said firmly."No buns.It took eighteen years to grow my hair this long, and I'm not going to hide it up on top of my head for the rest of my life just so I can look more like a man."  
Hotohori stared at him, suddenly startled."Eighteen?" he echoed softly.Of course, he'd known Nuriko was around his age, but...He shook his head, studied the young man with sudden interest."How long have you been eighteen?"  
The smaller seishi shrugged, frowned at him a bit uncertainly."I turned on March 10th..."  
Hotohori blinked at him for a moment...then let out a short laugh, pressed his palms down onto the table."Good God, you're older than me...!"  
Nuriko looked a bit uncertain."H-Hai..."  
The young emperor smiled."I'm sorry.It just...caught me off guard.I wouldn't have expected you to be...well, older than I am."Seeming rather suddenly to realize just what he was saying, Hotohori straightened slightly in the chair, smoothed absently at the soft fabric of his robes."Anyway," he recovered with a slim smile."Your hair is an important part of looking like a man, but your clothing is even more important."He brought a slim finger to his chin, tapped it lightly against his lips."Do you own anything but dresses?"  
Nuriko flushed slightly, glanced down at his hands."No...not really."The flush darkened."Nothing that would fit me anymore, anyway."  
"Well...that's all right.We can easily find you something else to wear.Do you have any preferences?"  
The young man shrugged, stretched his arms out before him and let them rest against the table."It's been so long..."He shrugged again."Anything is fine."  
Hotohori studied him for a long moment...then, let out a soft breath through parted lips, rose to his feet with a sweep of crimson and chestnut."Come on," he said firmly, smiling a bit at the smaller man."Let's go inside."  
Nuriko blinked, nonetheless rose to his feet, smoothed the silken lengths of his dress."Where are we going?"  
"To the royal tailor."  
"The...the royal tailor?But, Hotohori-sama, he's only used for--"  
The young emperor waved a dismissive hand."Don't worry.I've told you.As a Suzaku shichiseishi, you hold higher rank than nearly all others in the kingdom."He turned back to face the other man, met his eyes with a solid, serious gaze."Try to remember that you're no longer just another harem girl, Nuriko.You're part of something larger, now."

He turned to retreat back indoors, then, to begin the short trek to the tailor's chambers...but, he stopped as he realized Nuriko wasn't following, that the older man hadn't even moved in his direction.Puzzled, he turned back, a thin line creasing his forehead."Nuriko?"  
The young seishi was leaning lightly against the railing of the balcony, hands clasped gently in front of him, face turned upwards towards the soft, mottled blue of the sky.He stood there for a long moment, motionless and silent, the soft wisps of morning wind sweeping the blue silk about his legs, sending the violet hair whispering over his shoulders...and then, he turned back, gazed out at Hotohori with soft, narrowed violet eyes."If I weren't a shichiseishi," he said slowly, "and if you'd found out about my...secret..."His voice hardened."You'd have had me executed, wouldn't you?"  
Hotohori stared at him in shocked silence, startled by the question...and its implications."Executed?" he echoed incredulously."Nuriko, I'd never have had you executed..."  
The young seishi hung his head slightly, a look of such intense pain flaring in his eyes that Hotohori winced."Oh, really?" he asked, very softly."Aren't there laws against men in the harem?Laws against deceiving one's emperor?Laws against gender...perversion?"

Hotohori shook his head fervently, opened his mouth to protest...but stopped, very suddenly, as a chill, frightening realization trickled into him.Because...gods.Nuriko was right...wasn't he?There were, indeed, laws against such things...and the penalty for each and every one of them was imprisonment, severe beating...or death.Appalled, Hotohori leaned heavily against the nearby doorjamb, clutched at the cool, smooth wood with white-knuckled fingers.

Nuriko was right.If he hadn't known him...if he hadn't been a shichiseishi and thus irreplaceable...gods.If he'd been discovered, he would've been killed.There would've been no questions asked, no time spent searching for his reasons, learning whether or not he'd done any harm through his deceptions...he'd simply have been taken away, locked into a cell...and then either beaten or killed.The young emperor shivered, a sudden rush of mental images surging through him, driving the disgust and self-loathing even more deeply into his mind.Nuriko, lying in a shivering heap on a cold, rat-infested floor, his clothes ripped and tattered, that smooth, pale skin covered in bloodied slashes...or, worse...gods.Nuriko, dead...the life gone forever from those soft violet eyes, the breath lying cold and stilled in his lungs...and, it would've been all because of him, because of his laws...his decrees.He would've killed this man, never knowing him, never understanding him...never experiencing his friendship, his companionship, his inexplicable habit of bringing light and laughter to even the most somber of moments...

He felt the tears welling in his eyes almost before the disturbing images completed themselves, felt the strength bleeding from his limbs, the conviction dying unspoken on his tongue.He hung his head, wished he'd left his hair down today so it could sweep over his face, hide the grief from his features.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.He nearly choked on the words."Nuriko...You're right.I'm so...so sorry."

Much to his surprise, there came the soft rustle of skirts, the light padding of footsteps...and, then, there was a warm hand on his arm, a soft, smiling face gazing up into his own."Ne, Hotohori-sama," Nuriko said gently."Daijobu.It wouldn't have been your fault, even if it had happened.I'm the one who chose to start dressing this way...and I'm the one who chose to enter the harem.If I'd been killed...it would've been my fault, not yours."  
Hotohori stared down at him in shock, startled by the soft acceptance in that voice, the warmth...the gentle, enduring love.Knowing something like that...that he might've had him killed, if they hadn't known each other...how could Nuriko have that knowledge and not hate him for it?How could he still...still love him?

As his thoughts came full-circle, however, he found himself drawing on another wondering he'd been picking at for a few weeks now, a very logical question he hadn't had the urge to ask before...but which he now found he wanted--no, _needed_ to know the answer to."Nuriko," he said quietly.He drew a soft breath, let it out slowly through his nose.His eyes latched onto Nuriko's own, held them in a tight, rigid stare and didn't let go."Why do you do this?"  
Nuriko understood.He could see the comprehension flickering in the depths of those violet eyes, could see the unconscious clenching of his jaw, the hesitant twitch of his cheek...but otherwise, Nuriko held his careful mask in place, blinked at him questioningly."Why do I do what?"  
"Dress like you do.Like a woman.Have you..."He trailed off, flushed faintly."Have you always done it, or...or is it more recent...?"He shook his head."I'm sorry.I realize it's a very personal question...but, I can't help but wonder...particularly now."  
Nuriko held his stare for a moment longer, his slim fingers still resting lightly against Hotohori's arm...and then, he turned, retreated back to the edge of the balcony and rested his elbows on the railing.His voice was very soft...but clearly, clearly audible."It's all right," he murmured."You have a right...to want to know."

Hotohori watched him closely, taking in the sudden rigidity to his movements, the sudden tensing of his shoulders and back...the way his head leaned forward, the way his gaze swept down over the immense palace lawn below them.Had he struck a nerve, somehow?Was this something painful?But...but, he needed to know...

"Will you tell me?" he asked quietly.

Nuriko inclined his head a fraction of an inch, seemed to close his eyes. "Hai.I'll tell you, Hotohori-sama.Demo..."  
"Demo...?"  
His voice was hard."Demo, you have to promise that you're not going to pity me once I tell you this."He shook his head gently, sending a soft wave of violet hair sweeping over his shoulders."I'm telling you this because you want to know, not because I want your sympathy.So, promise me."  
Wondering what kind of tale could possibly lie ahead of him, Hotohori nodded, drew in a soft breath."I promise," he said firmly.

Nuriko seemed to relax a bit more, slumped back against the railing and slid to a sitting position on the balcony floor, arms wrapping lightly around his legs."All right," he continued softly."I'll tell you, then."The man drew in a deep breath...and, then, he began to speak.His tone never changed, never grew softer or louder, never took on a hint of emotion...but, the pain was almost agonizingly visible in every quiet word, every careful sentence.And slowly, gradually...Hotohori began to understand.

"When I was ten years old," he began softly, "I had a sister, a year younger than me...named Korin.Our...faces and figures were so much alike..."He smiled softly, wistfully."We looked more like twins than brother and sister.We were very close.I...cherished Korin."His face darkened."But, one day...we were in the house, getting ready to go to our father's shop.Mother had just started letting Korin wear some of her make-up, and so she was taking longer than usual, trying to get it on just right..."His eyes drifted lightly closed."I got impatient...and, I...I left without her.I was angry at her, Hotohori-sama....angry that she was more interested in getting the make-up on her face than she was in coming with me...and so, I left her there.She tried to catch up with me...but, I walked fast on purpose.I didn't want her to catch up with me.I wanted her to feel bad for making me wait."The closed eyes squeezed more tightly shut."When she finally did catch up with me...I guess she didn't want me to lose her again, so she...she started to run...Neither of us saw the carriage coming until it was too late, and...she died.

"I don't remember much about what happened after that.I remember holding onto her body in the street, trying to make her get up...and I remember being taken back to the house by my father, sleeping for a long time.After I woke up...I kept expecting to find out that it had just been a dream...because gods, that's what it felt like.It was...hard for me to accept.Korin and I had always been together...and so, it was difficult to realize that now I...I was alone.Father told me to forget her...but, I couldn't.It was my fault she was dead, Hotohori-sama...and, so...I decided to live for her...because someone who made Korin die didn't deserve to have his own life, ne?So, I started dressing like her, going by her name...I have ever since."Those soft violet eyes slid open, then, gazed at him sadly."Well?Do you feel any better...now that you know?"

Hotohori could only shake his head wordlessly, a heavy, painful ache building in his heart, sweeping up over him like a wave.So, this was where the sadness in Nuriko's eyes came from..."Nuriko," he began quietly.

But, the smaller man rose to his feet, took a few careful steps forward."Iie, Hotohori-sama," he said sternly."No pity, remember?It's all right.It happened a long time ago, ne?"The young seishi offered a soft smile, swept forward and latched onto his arm."Weren't we on our way to the royal tailor to find me some decent clothes?"  
"Hai...but--"  
"All right, then.Let's go, ne?"  
"H...Hai."  
They went.

~*~*~*~

[To be continued...]


	2. The Man Beneath the Braid - 2

~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~

Nuriko scrunched up his nose."Hotohori-sama, I don't know about this..."  
The young emperor hid a smile beneath his fist, his slim, imperial fingers dangling loosely over his chin.Truthfully, he was more than a bit surprised at the result of the tailor's endeavors--Nuriko looked, to all extents and purposes, like a boy.It was a little disconcerting, actually...and more than a little unnerving.Drawing in a short, preparatory breath, Hotohori rose to his feet, took a few steps forward to study the young seishi by the flickers of afternoon sunlight.

Nuriko was clad in a simple tunic of soft, sandy brown, his slim legs covered in trousers of the same color, but of a darker, richer shade.The tunic itself was long, reaching well past Nuriko's shins, but it was cinched tightly at his waist with a dark belt, and looked surprisingly stylish despite the speed at which it had been constructed.It also fit snugly against the eighteen-year-old's chest and arms, showing off--for the first time in what Hotohori gathered was a long time--the young man's flat, smooth chest, modestly-muscled arms, and small, slender shoulders.Despite his earlier protests, Hotohori saw that Nuriko's hair had been tugged up into a very full, heavy bun, leaving only a few wisps of bangs dangling about his face and ears.

"There," said the tailor, a tall, emaciated-looking man whose name Hotohori had never bothered to find out.The man rose to his feet, surveyed his work with a careful, approving eye."That's the best I can do for you, Heika-sama."His dark eyes narrowed, latched onto Nuriko's face with something very akin to exasperation."You, young man," he growled, "are the most difficult person I've ever had to work with."His gaze flickered to the young emperor, hands flying into the air as he spoke."I should be paid an entire extra salary, just for putting up with him!Honestly, Heika-sama!I've never worked with a more difficult individual in my entire life!"  
Hotohori blinked in surprise, glanced questioningly back to Nuriko.The young man stood quietly in the center of the room, arms folded almost protectively over his chest, looking uncomfortable and a little irritated himself.His lips were twisted vaguely downwards, his nose still scrunched up in uncertainty or disgust...but there was something almost playful in his eyes, something impish, boyish...It was a strange expression to see on the face of the gentle young woman he'd spent last evening waltzing through the ball room with, and an even stranger expression to see on this new, well-clothed stranger.

For a moment, he latched gazes with the older seishi, tried to draw some understanding from those large, sparkling violet eyes...but, Nuriko was giving away nothing, barely even blinking beneath his stare.Finally, Hotohori gave up, turned back to the exasperated-looking tailor and waved his hand in dismissal."Thank you for your help," he said formally."I'll see to it that you're properly paid."  
The tailor muttered something under his breath about there not being enough money in the imperial treasury to satisfy him, spun on his heel, and stalked out of the room.Suddenly finding himself alone with Nuriko, Hotohori moved carefully back to his chair, sank into it and folded his hands in his lap.Nuriko, for his part, immediately relaxed, moving over to a nearby chair and sinking into it with typical grace.He moved a bit stiffly in the unfamiliar clothing, though, constantly glancing down at himself as if in disbelief, and still kept his arms folded tightly over his chest.

Hotohori cast the other man a suspicious glance."Nuriko, what did you do to him?"  
Nuriko blinked innocently."Do?Why, nothing, of course."  
The young emperor eyed him doubtfully for a moment...but, Nuriko only smiled.Finally, trusting he'd manage to pry the information from him some other time, Hotohori clasped his hands together, turned another examining eye towards the young seishi."Well...what do you think of it?"  
Nuriko glanced down at himself again, realized his arms were still crossed protectively over his chest and lifted them, tugged his hands out before him in a sleek, catlike stretch."The clothes are nice," he commented after a moment.His lips twisted."But, a little tight.And, the bun..."Two slim fingers rose swiftly upwards, tugged out the hairpin and sent heavy waves of violet surging over Nuriko's shoulders, sweeping down well past his waist.He smiled."The bun is just as uncomfortable as I remember."  
Hotohori eyed him silently for a moment, lips twisted in thought.Finally, he rose to his feet, crossed to where Nuriko sat and paused before him."Stand up."  
Nuriko did so.

The young emperor stared at him for another moment in silent contemplation, finger tapping lightly against his chin.Finally, he drew in a short breath, let it out slowly through his nostrils."The clothes definitely suit you," he began slowly, "but, the hair..."He shook his head."Isn't there anything else you can do with it?"  
Nuriko shrugged a bit uncomfortably."I guess I could braid it..."  
Hotohori inclined his head a fraction of an inch, took a short step backwards."Yes," he said."Try that."He smiled."Then, we'll go out and test it."

The violet-haired seishi blinked."Test it?"  
"Hai."

Those soft violet eyes narrowed suspiciously."Hotohori-sama..."  
But, the young emperor had already turned and strode back across the room, was standing framed in the doorway, one slim hand resting lightly against the wooden frame.A slight smile bent at his lips."You'll see.Come to my chambers when you've finished."  
And, then, he was gone.

~*~*~*~

The sun was slanting flatly in through the windows, and the air was just starting to cool into early evening when Hotohori realized that Nuriko had never shown up.He rose to his feet with a sweep of reddish robes, took a few steps towards the door.Of course, Nuriko was probably fine, had most likely gotten caught up in something--much like he himself had gotten caught up in the paperwork he'd been doing.

But...

But, something wasn't right.Never, in all his time with the other seishi, could he ever remember Nuriko being late to anything...or, not sending any kind of word when he was.All his common sense told him that, of course, nothing was wrong, Nuriko had simply forgotten or found something else he needed to do...but, there was a dark, heavy weight sinking into the pit of his stomach, and something like a soft whisper against the back of his neck...no.Something was wrong.

Frowning and wondering what might've become of the young seishi, Hotohori took a long step out onto the palace walkway, glanced briefly from right to left in search of some sign of the other man, then sighed softly and began the trek towards Nuriko's room.The walk itself was a pleasant one--the air had cooled enough that he was comfortable, even clad in his heavy imperial robes, and the wisps of wind flooding up from the imperial gardens gave the air a soft, fragrant scent.Suddenly recalling the other seishi's fondness for the gardens, Hotohori veered off to the side and started down a nearby staircase, was soon moving swiftly across the palace lawn, heading for the gardens...But, once he got there, he found them strangely silent, oddly empty...Nuriko was not here.

Shrugging and beginning to feel a little more uneasy, the young emperor turned back, climbed up onto the palace walkway, and again made his way to the other seishi's rooms.There, the mystery deepened.Nuriko's door hung wide open, the interior dark and empty, no sign of the other seishi anywhere within.His frown deepening, Hotohori stepped lightly into the room, moved almost instinctively to the small mess beside the window.A small, intricately-carved wooden table had been flipped onto its side, and its contents--a slender vase of lilies--had been thrown to the floor as well, lay in a shattered heap of glass, water, and browning petals...Hotohori felt a rush of panic slide through him. What had happened here??  
Something was most definitely wrong...but, there was no one he could question, no one he could look to for help...How was he going to find Nuriko when he didn't even know where to start looking??After a considerable bit of thought and a bit of genuine panic, Hotohori at last decided to go to the only people in the palace he could trust to advise him--his advisors.They'd given him assistance concerning matters other than state-related before, so surely they could help him to figure out how to locate Nuriko now...certainly.Moving with the swiftness of the frantic, Hotohori swept down the palace walkway, ignored the occasional bow or greeting, and eventually--_finally_--reached the plush lounge his advisors spent the majority of their spare time within.

Most individuals were required to knock before entering, of course, but he was the emperor, after all.He latched onto the slim handle, pushed the door gently inwards, and stepped inside.

"...really for the best," one of the men was saying, bobbing his head slightly in time with his words."Of course, we all know the more fitting way of dealing with this...but, considering the circumstances..."The man looked as if he was about to say more...but, then, one of the advisors rose with a leap from his chair, bowed his head.

"Heika!" he exclaimed, sounding a bit flustered.

The other men immediately rose to their feet as well, offered short bows. 

"Heika," one said."What brings you here?Can we do something for you?"  
Frowning slightly, Hotohori brought himself more fully into the room, fixed a solid gaze on each of his advisors in turn."I need for you to advise me," he said firmly."I'm trying to find--"  
The oldest of the advisors held up a stopping hand, gazed at him almost suspiciously."Is this concerning a matter of state?"

Hotohori stared at him for a moment, startled...then, he shook his head, managed a brief, "No, but--"  
"Well, then," the man continued smoothly."Perhaps you should discuss this matter with someone else.We are, after all, quite occupied with the other, more important matters you've brought to our attention."  
The young emperor's eyes narrowed angrily."This _is_ important.A member of the Suzaku shichiseishi is missing, possibly taken under duress.I don't think I need to remind you of the consequences if one of the seishi were to die before Suzaku could be summoned..."  
The old man exchanged a glance Hotohori didn't like with one of the others."The shichiseishi Nuriko," he said slowly. 

Hotohori nodded.

The man shrugged his slim shoulders."Do not concern yourself with him, Heika.He's perfectly safe."  
"Safe..."He stared at them in sudden comprehension."You know where he is?"  
"Hai, Heika.Please, don't concern yourself.We've taken painstaking measures to ensure that he will not die."  
"Where is he??"  
The man made a smoothing gesture with his hands, smiled at the young emperor placidly."Please, Heika.Surely, you can't be so oblivious."  
"To what?Where is Nuriko??"  
The advisor blinked at him."Why, he's in the palace dungeons, of course.The instant we found out about his...deceptions, we did as you would've no doubt wanted, and had him locked away.Don't worry, he won't be killed yet--despite his traitorous actions, he _is_ a shichiseishi.But, he has been punished...and, once Suzaku is called, he can be dealt with as law commands."  
A ghost of their earlier conversation rose up in Hotohori's mind, stung him anew.

_If I weren't a shichiseishi...you'd have had me executed, wouldn't you?_

Hotohori felt the anger bubbling up within him, forced it back, fought to regain control.His voice trembled only slightly as he spoke."What do you mean, he's been 'punished?'"

The old advisor inclined his head slightly, folded his hands lightly before him as if in prayer."Please, do not concern yourself, Heika.He's been dealt with as befitting a traitor to the crown."  
Something within him snapped.Hotohori rushed forward, grabbed onto the man's collar, and hoisted him upwards into the air an inch or so."Take me to him," he hissed."NOW."

~*~*~*~


	3. The Man Beneath the Braid - 3

~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~

He'd never felt more like throwing up in his life.

"My...God," he whispered.His legs seemed to give way.Hotohori clutched onto the edge of the wall to support himself, nonetheless sank almost to his knees on the cold, damp floor.For a long moment, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could only stand there and press one hand against his mouth and try not to fall over.

Nuriko lay face-down on the cold grey stone, clad in nothing but a pair of torn, muddied trousers, his long violet hair covering most of his body like a cloak, bathing his face in shadow.Peeking out through the thick tufts of hair, however, were thin, painfully-deep lines of crimson, streaking up and down the smooth, soft skin of his back, crisscrossing over his chest, even slicing down both slim, feminine legs.What was visible of Nuriko's face was bruised and bloodied, and the breath moved in and out of his thin, cracked lips with audible difficulty...like wheezing.Once again, Hotohori had the intense urge to throw up.

After the initial shock came the guilt.

If he'd only thought to check on Nuriko earlier...if he'd only stayed with him...if he'd only talked to his advisors sooner...if he'd only known...if he'd only figured it out...if he'd only done SOMETHING more than lounge in his comfortable chair and do his paper work while Nuriko was being beaten within an inch of his life!

Next came the anger.

He spun around so quickly that he nearly lost his balance and went tumbling down to the floor.His advisors had refused to accompany him here, but had sent a guard to guide him--and, despite the fact that the young guard probably had had nothing to do with what had happened, he was here, and that was good enough.

"THIS MAN," he roared, "IS A SUZAKU SHICHISEISHI!"His voice echoed heavily through the vast, darkened depths of the palace dungeons, drove the place into a sudden, icy silence.Consumed with a rage he didn't quite understand, Hotohori latched onto the startled young man's collar, hefted him into the air with a strength Nuriko himself would've envied."Find me the man who did this," he continued in a lower, harsher voice."Find me the man who did this and bring him to me.NOW!"  
The guard, dark eyes wide and fearful, quickly disentangled himself from Hotohori's grip, went stumbling backwards towards the stairs."H-H-Hai, H-Heika," he managed.Spinning quickly on his heel, the man bolted back up the stairs, dashed through the door,and vanished into the upper levels of the palace.

Once he'd gone, Hotohori let out a heavy breath of air, slumped back against the wall.He stood there for a long moment, shaking and trying to recover some semblance of control...and, then, he turned, tugged open the barred door, and took a short, unsteady step into the cell.Nuriko hadn't moved since he'd come, but as he drew nearer, he noticed that one of the man's slim, blood-stained fingers was twitching slightly, that his breathing seemed to be coming more quickly, more succinctly.Trying once again to drive the shivers from his body, the young emperor moved to Nuriko's side, lowered himself carefully onto his knees...and gazed down at the man.

Up close, the sight was even more gruesome.Tangled, blood-matted hair clung against the skin of Nuriko's face and back, hid most of the marks from where the whip had struck him...hid even the mottled bruises on his cheeks, his chest, his shoulders.Unsure of what to do, Hotohori stretched down a trembling hand, brushed the hair gently away from Nuriko's face...and stopped, startled, as the thick eyelashes flickered...as those soft violet eyes slid slowly, painfully open.

Nuriko stared out at him for a long moment, breathing heavily through his mouth and looking as if he was trying to gain enough strength to speak.Hotohori wanted to tell him not to waste his strength with speech...wanted to tell him he was sorry, this shouldn't have happened, he hadn't known...but, his lips were frozen.He couldn't have moved, breathed, or said a word, even if his very life had depended on it.

"Hoto...hori...sama," Nuriko whispered at last.His voice was very, very soft...broken.He tried to smile."I knew...you'd come."  
The tears stung in his eyes.This was his fault...HIS fault.Gods, his fault his fault his fault!"Nuriko," he managed.His voice was hoarse, heavy with the sorrow and guilt and pain lying thickly in his throat."Nuriko...I...I didn't know...I'm..."  
Nuriko shifted slightly on the floor, drew in a long breath, and let it out very, very slowly, as if the simple act of breathing pained him."Dai...jobu," he continued in the same soft whisper."Wasn't...so bad.Still alive...ne?"  
Hotohori opened his mouth to say something more...but, at that moment, Nuriko let out a heavy breath, went limp...and his eyes drifted heavily closed.

He knew, of course, that he was going to have to pick the smaller seishi up, carry him out of here and to a safer place--he obviously couldn't trust anyone else to such a duty, and to leave Nuriko here was absolutely unthinkable.But...He drew in a deep breath, let it out in a shudder of air...and felt the first, hot tears sting against his cheeks.

"This is my fault," he whispered.And, even though Nuriko couldn't hear him..."Nuriko...I'm so sorry.I'm so...so...so sorry."  
He didn't know how long he sat there, his back leaning weakly against the cold bars, the tears sliding in soft trickles over his cheeks...but after an indeterminate amount of time, he pulled himself together, drew in a deep breath, and knelt at Nuriko's side once again.Careful not to touch against the more severe wounds, he wrapped his arms around the slim body and brought Nuriko gently to his chest.The boy cried out at the motion, his features suddenly contorting in agony, every muscle in his body tensing...and then, he relaxed again, went limp in the young emperor's arms.Kneeling there, Nuriko gathered against his chest, Hotohori was suddenly and painfully struck by just how _small_ the other man seemed, just how thin and fragile he looked, how frail, how weak...gods, what kind of monster could've had the heart to do this to him??And, why hadn't Nuriko fought back?Why hadn't he used his strength, gotten away before they could hurt him...before they could beat him this badly?  
Putting the thoughts out of his head as best he could and vowing to deal with them later, Hotohori rose to his feet, readjusted his grip a bit on the body in his arms, and began to make his way towards the door.As he moved, Nuriko's long hair swept down nearly to the floor, brushed against his legs, made it difficult to move without tripping...Realizing rather suddenly that he was going to have a hard time getting up the stairs if such a problem was allowed to continue, Hotohori came to a careful halt, lowered Nuriko gently to the ground and lifted the silken lengths of his hair.A few minutes later, he'd tugged them as best he could into a thin, simple braid, and then let the braid rest lightly over the man's smooth, bloodied chest.Once again, he drew Nuriko up into his arms and rose to his feet, but this time, the young seishi didn't cry out...he merely lay there, breathing heavily, and didn't move.

The young emperor took a long step out of the cell, let a brief shudder run through his body...and, then, he began the long, excruciating climb back up the stairs.The steps themselves were old, cracking slabs of stone, and there was no railing or banister to speak of...not that he'd have been able to use such a thing, even if it'd been there.His hands were quite full, as it was.As he moved, he kept a careful watch on his feet, sure to check just where he planted his shoes, to ensure he didn't slip, fall and kill them both...As he walked, however, he couldn't help but notice that--now that the hair had been pulled, mostly, into the braid--Nuriko's face seemed, startlingly enough, to be mostly intact.That soft, feminine beauty was still there, and his skin--although bruised rather badly at the round of his cheekbone and stained with trickles of blood--was still smooth, pale, and soft...Nuriko was still beautiful, even after having been beaten.

It seemed important.Hotohori didn't know why.

It took a painfully long time to get up those stairs, and even longer to navigate his way through the palace walkways, get Nuriko back to the safety of his own room.It wasn't until he stepped inside, saw the upturned table and the brown, lifeless floweres that he remembered that this room wasn't safe at all, that this was where he'd been taken, where the hell had begun...Hotohori stepped back out of the room, spun on his heel, and began the long trek to his own quarters.A few of his advisors saw him as he approached, rushed up to meet him...but, except for a curt, "I'll deal with you later," he completely ignored them.

Nuriko hadn't made a sound during the entire trek, but now that they reached the warm safety of Hotohori's chambers, now that the young emperor laid the seishi gently onto the soft mattress of his own bed...the young man began to cry softly.Startled and pained by the sudden show of emotion, Hotohori stared down at Nuriko in absolute helplessness, tried to figure out what he could do, what he could say...was the boy even awake?  
"Nuriko," he said softly.A few moments after he'd lowered the eighteen-year-old gently onto the mattress, he'd gathered a bowl of cool water and a rag, had placed it on the table next to the bed.He reached into it now, pulled out the rag and dabbed, very carefully, at the mottled bruise on that smooth, pale cheek."Nuriko...I'm sorry.It should never have happened.Please.Don't cry..."  
He wasn't even sure if Nuriko was conscious or not until the man drew in a deep, shuddering breath, stopped his weeping for a moment to speak."Not...because of the pain," he whispered.His voice was so low, Hotohori had to lean close to hear it, press his ear almost against those thin, chapped lips.His lips bent upwards into a very small, very weak smile."So...kind," he concluded softly.

"So kind...?"It wasn't until he repeated the words himself that he realized what Nuriko meant, that he realized that it was his own kindness that was causing this weeping...that these were tears of thanks, not tears of pain...gods.

He felt, if possible, even lower than he had a few moments earlier.

But, Nuriko had seemingly passed out again, was now lying weakly on his back, breathing quietly through his mouth...and, so all Hotohori could do was dip the rag again into the cool water, begin the slow process of dabbing at Nuriko's many wounds, stemming the trickling flow of blood from the thin, angry gashes.At one point, he rediscovered common sense and had one of his servants summon the palace physician, waited rather anxiously as the short, overly-jolly man plodded into the room, plopped down on the bed beside Nuriko and began running his hands gently over the thin, prone body.Nuriko winced every time those pudgy hands touched against one of his wounds, but the doctor either didn't notice or didn't care, because he continued the inspection until he'd touched nearly every inch on which Nuriko had been injured.By the end, tears of pain were trickling weakly over those pale cheeks, but Nuriko seemed to be asleep...if his breathing was any sign, anyway.

"Heika-sama," the physician said at last.

Hotohori held his breath.

"The boy will be fine.These wounds need to be bandaged, and it'll be awhile before he's strong enough to move very far from the bed...but, he'll be fine.Whoever did this to him..."His eyes narrowed, studied the young emperor almost accusingly for a moment."...was very careful not to hit him anywhere that might kill him.His head, you'll notice, is basically untouched--it's mostly his arms, his back, and his legs that were struck."The man cleared his throat lightly, rose to his feet. "Whatever the case...I'll send a man over to bandage him in a few minutes, and after that, if you just make sure that he's fed well and not beaten anymore--"Those dark eyes narrowed pointedly again."--then, he should pull through without any trouble at all."  
_He thinks I did this to him._

He wanted to protest, to say that of course it hadn't been his idea that Nuriko be brutalized this way, that he'd never been unkind or hurtful to the man before in his life...but, the words stuck on his tongue, wouldn't come.Because...it _was_ his fault.He hadn't struck the boy, but he might as well have, for all it mattered.His advisors had been acting on what they thought he would want...gods, he should've known how they would react to finding out that Nuriko was a man!He should've _known_ and _told_ them not to hurt him--gods, he should've _known!!_

But, he hadn't.He hadn't known or guessed or even suspected...and, Nuriko had been beaten...badly.If he were Nuriko...gods, if he were Nuriko, he would never be able to forgive the arrogant, stupid emperor who'd never thought to check on him, never thought to ask where he was...never noticed he was missing until it had already been many hours...until he'd already been dragged to the dungeons, humiliated, tortured, beaten...

"Thank you," he told the physician, very quietly, the anguish dragging his face towards the carpet."I...appreciate it."  
This was, of course, the man's cue to leave...but, he didn't leave.He stood there, just beside the bed, and stared at the young emperor's face, stared at him with a thoughtful, perplexed look on his face.Finally, Hotohori realized he was the subject of inspection, lifted his head to look at the man...and frowned. 

"W...What is it?" he asked.

The man studied him for a moment longer, his large, dark brown eyes blinking rapidly, the thick tufts of his mustache twitching...and then, he reached forward a hand, patted the young emperor gently on the shoulder."I'm sorry," he said quickly.

"Sorry?"  
"Yep.Didn't realize...didn't think."He smiled slightly."You didn't do this to him, Heika.I thought you might've...but, you know what?Somebody like that doesn't bring the kid back to his own chambers, doesn't sit there and take care o' the kid with his own two hands.Most of all," he added with a wider smile, "somebody like that doesn't look like he's about to hurl all over the carpet, if you'll pardon my metaphor.Nope.You didn't do this.But..."He trailed off, frowned."But, if you didn't, Heika...who the hell did?Here, I was thinkin' only the emperor himself could call for this kinda punishment...and gods, on somebody this young, this small?Who did this to him, if it wasn't you?"  
Of course, he had no obligation to tell this man anything.In fact, if he was smart, he'd thank him for his services, send him away, and never speak to him again until he had more need for a physician...but...He frowned.But, there was something...kind in those eyes, something that was truly, genuinely interested in knowing what had happened...and so, despite his better judgment, he lowered himself into the chair beside the bed and began to speak.

"It was my advisors," he said in a low voice.His hands folded over his lap, smoothed absently at the soft fabric of his robes."They thought...that I would've wanted it this way, and so they..."He closed his eyes."So, they did this.I didn't realize what had happened until it was already too late."  
The doctor nodded speculatively, tapping one pudgy finger gently against his chin."Hmm," he murmured."Seems like you got a couple o' naughty guys tryin' to get themselves up over your authority, huh?"  
He blinked...then realized the portent of the comment, shook his head."No, no, it's not like that at all.They were acting on what they thought _I_ would want...and..."His voice sank a bit."Truthfully, they were right--they _were_ acting by law."  
The man raised a thick, hairy eyebrow."Law told 'em to beat this poor kid within an inch of his life?"  
"No," Hotohori said, very quietly."Law told them to execute him.But...he's a Suzaku shichiseishi, so they only had him beaten...Good God."His eyes widened, a sudden realization slicing through him."If...if he _hadn't_ been a shichiseishi...gods, they _would_ have killed him...and I'd never known about it until it was too late...gods.He'd be dead..."  
The doctor took a short step forward, patted him lightly on the shoulder."Don't stress about the might've beens, Heika.The kid's alive, isn't he?He's safe and sound, gonna be fine...so, don't stress about it."THe man paused for a second, studying him with a strange, thoughtful expression on his face...and then, he straightened, brushed a bit of imaginary dirt from his tunic, and headed for the door."Well, I'll be sending some men over soon to bandage him and give you more instructions.Bye-bye for now..."  
Hotohori watched him go, managing only a small, "Goodbye..."  
And, then, the man was gone...and he was once more alone with the beaten, brutalized body of his friend.Sighing softly, Hotohori reached into the bowl of water and began to dab at the wounds again, the words of the doctor circling in his mind as he did.It was almost twenty minutes before the men came with the bandages, and by then...Nuriko was conscious.

~*~*~*~


	4. The Man Beneath the Braid - 4

~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~

Nuriko winced."Itai..."

He'd been propped up into a sitting position for the application of the bandages, now sat a little unsteadily at the edge of the bed, his thin legs dangling loosely over the side, his small white feet pressed against the thick carpet.Hotohori watched as the four men moved swiftly around him, as they wrapped thick stretches of white fabric around his chest and arms, as they dabbed tiny splotches of some salve-like solution onto the more dire of the wounds.None of them spoke as they worked, and yet they moved in an eerie kind of synchronization, as if they'd done this before so many times that they no longer needed vocal communication to function.

"Don't hurt him," the young emperor said sternly, watching as Nuriko winced, yet again, as a roving hand struck against one of his many wounds.

Two of the men paused, glanced up at him with dark glances that clearly said, "This is our work, not yours.Leave us alone."  
Hotohori took a short step backwards, let the men continue their work.

Finally, the bandages had all been applied, and Nuriko was allowed to lie down again.It was only then, as the men lowered him carefully onto his back, that Hotohori realized that the young seishi was still clad in the torn, muddied trousers he'd been wearing in the dungeon.And that, of course, would not do.Once the men had left and Nuriko was lying comfortably on his back, gazing up at the soft canopy of the bed, Hotohori turned and strode to the nearby closet, began to shuffle through it for something that might fit.Of course, the young seishi was a great deal smaller than he himself was...but, surely, there must be something in here...While roving in the back of the closet, his hand brushed against something soft and silken and he paused, drew his fingers back into the light.

The breath seemed to catch in his lungs.Of course...he'd nearly forgotten.

Soft, silken fabric of a powdery blue, crisscrossed stylishly at the neckline, cinched at the waist with a simple sash of a darker, matching blue.Despite what it had been intended for, it looked about the right size, and so he drew it out, gazed at it more fully in the fading evening light.It was, quite possibly, the most beautiful article of clothing he owned...and, it wasn't even intended for his own wear.He remembered very clearly the day his mother had presented this to him--he'd only been ten or eleven years old, had thought it was the most startlingly perfect thing he'd ever seen...and the thought that one day, his empress would wear it...it had nearly set his flesh afire.This silken robe had been his everlasting proof that one day he would have someone who loved him, that one day he would not be alone anymore...that one day, there would be more to his life than being emperor, more to his life than just affairs of state and politics.When he was younger, when the nights stretched out before him and the loneliness was so intense that he couldn't sleep...he would sneak to this closet, sit down in the corner and press the silken fabric to his cheek.It was a promise, a reassurance..._one day, Heika_, it said._One day, you'll have someone to love you._

Glancing over at Nuriko, remembering the man's words in the garden...he couldn't think of a more fitting person to wear it.

He moved to the side of the bed, stood there for a long moment in silence.Nuriko looked better, at least, now that all the ugly red welts had been covered, now that the healing salve had been smeared over the worser of his wounds...but, his features were still tensed in pain, his breathing coming softly, weakly...but, he did look better.After a moment, those soft violet eyes slid away from the high canopy of the bed, and the pale face turned, gazed up at him for a long, silent moment.

"Hotohori," Nuriko whispered.His voice seemed stronger, somehow, less fragile, less broken...but, his lips barely moved as he spoke."Thank you...for finding me."  
He considered sitting down on the edge of the bed, but, decided that it would jar the boy too much, instead lowered himself carefully into the chair just beside it."Please," he said quietly."Don't thank me."  
Nuriko drew a soft breath, let it out slowly...winced as if the breath pained him."Why...not?"  
"Because.This is my fault.My advisors were acting on what they thought I would want...they did this to you because they thought it was what I wanted...do you understand?It's _my fault_ this happened to you.My fault."  
Nuriko shook his head slightly."No...not your fault...Hotohori-sama.Mine."  
"Nuriko..."  
"No.My fault.I...entered the harem...knowing what could happen."Hotohori opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Nuriko had lifted a thin, bandaged arm, was pointing at the silken robe still dangling from his fingers."Sore wa?"  
The young emperor glanced down at it as if having just remembered it was there, rose carefully to his feet."It's for you," he explained softly."Can you..."He paused, flushed a bit."Can you...put it on by yourself?"  
Nuriko managed a nod, spent a moment struggling to push himself up into a sitting position.Finally, he lay back weakly, closed his eyes for a moment in exhaustion."Help," he whispered.

Hotohori leaned down, placed a strong arm at the base of the young seishi's back, and helped him to sit up.Once he had, Nuriko spent a long moment breathing heavily, slumping forward like a rag doll...and then, he straightened his back, sat up fully and lifted his arms.Careful not to touch against any of the bandages, Hotohori lifted the robe, slid the first sleeve very gently over Nuriko's waiting arm.Next, he leaned forward, tried to stretch the fabric to accomodate the other arm...but, was finally forced to grip the arm itself, place it carefully within the sleeve.Once that was done, it was a simple matter of cinching the robe at the waist, smoothing the fabric down over Nuriko's legs.The cloth itself stretched down a bit past his knees...but, there was, Hotohori realized, still the matter of the muddied trousers.He considered asking Nuriko to do it himself for a moment, but of course he knew that there wasn't much chance of that happening, so he pushed the man gently onto his back, drew in a deep breath, and set to work.

Despite the fact that he knew that Nuriko was a man, that the fellow seishi's smooth, flat chest was more than proof of his true gender, he still felt a little awkward as he tugged at the waistline of the trousers, as he carefully disentangled them from the thin legs, pulled them the rest of the way off.Nuriko _was_ a man...but, his mind still registered him as a female, and the thought of doing this sort of thing to a woman...it was despicable, perverted, terribly ungentlemanly.Nuriko didn't even seem to notice what he was doing, however, and so he felt a little better...but, he let out an audible sigh of relief once the task was over, sat back and pressed his hands over his eyes.

"Hotohori-sama?"  
He started, sat up straighter in the chair and lifted his hands from his eyes.Nuriko still lay weakly on his back, slim arms resting limply at his sides...but, his eyes were open again, staring up at the silken canopy overhead.The young emperor dragged his chair a little closer to the bed, noticed for the first time just how well the soft blue robe fit Nuriko, that it seemed almost to have been custom-made for the young seishi...he put the thought out of his head, however, as the smaller man drew in a long breath, seemed about ready to say something.

"The tailor," Nuriko began softly, "didn't like me...because I wouldn't let him see me...without my clothes on."He smiled slightly, drew in another difficult breath."Too many years...as a woman...didn't feel right...to let him look at me.He got angry...had to measure me with...my clothes on...then subtract the extra...fabric..."He trailed off, drew a few deep breaths...then smiled again."Made him angry...extra work.That's why...since you asked."  
Something heavy sank into his throat, made it difficult to speak for a long moment.When he finally did, his voice was low, anguished."Nuriko," he said plaintively, "why didn't you fight back?You...you could've gotten away from them--you could've fought back.Why didn't you?Why did you just let them take you?"  
Nuriko closed his eyes, smiled almost wistfully."Couldn't...disobey...the emperor's orders," he whispered."Besides...I knew...you'd come."  
"But, I didn't come!I didn't come until it was too late!"  
"You still came...Hotohori-sama.You still...came."The man shifted slightly in the bed, turned carefully over onto his side and tried to clutch onto the edge of the blankets.Seeing him straining, the young emperor rose to his feet, bent over the bed.A moment later, he'd taken the soft, warm blankets into his hands, spread them carefully over Nuriko's body, tugged them up to the man's chin.Nuriko smiled appreciatively, let his cheek sink softly into the thick puff of the pillow, and closed his eyes."Tired," he whispered.

Hotohori nodded, sank wearily back into the chair and folded his hands over his lap."Sleep," he said softly."I'll be right here."  
Eyes still closed, the young seishi smiled."Thank you...Hotohori-sama."

He slept.

~*~*~*~

"No. That's no excuse."He pounded his fist down hard on the table, nearly upturned a row of half-filled wine glasses."I want to know _why_ this happened.Most of all--"His eyes flared."--I want to know why you felt it necessary to completely usurp my authority and do this without even consulting me first!"

The oldest of the advisors bowed his head slightly, folded his hands respectfully before him."Heika," he began slowly, "although you, of course, hold ultimate authority over all the land...you can't be troubled with each and every little decision, can you?We merely acted as law commanded, and as we were sure you would've wanted us to."  
Hotohori glared at the man."No.No, I don't believe that.There was a _reason_ why this was kept from me.There's more to it than what you're telling me...now, explain to me why you did this, or you can explain it to me after you've spent a few weeks in the dungeons!"  
The man made a smoothing gesture with his hands, smiled placidly."Now, now, Heika," he soothed."Please, calm yourself.I realize you're angry, but we're not at fault here."

The young emperor frowned."You're not," he echoed flatly.

"No," the man continued, still offering that maddeningly-calm smile, "we're not.If anyone is at fault, it is the shichiseishi Nuriko himself.Had he not deceived you and all of us in the first place, he'd have never been in the position to be punished as he was.We merely acted as law commanded...and, frankly, I believe it is a vast error in your own judgment, Heika, that you've undone the judgment of law by taking Nuriko from the dungeons and caring for him in your own chambers."He took a short step forward, lowered his voice slightly."You realize, Heika, that it doesn't take much for the members of the court to gossip...and, well, the emperor having a _man_ in his quarters, letting him sleep in his own bed...it's not speaking well for you, Your Majesty."  
Hotohori blinked at him."Not speaking well for me...What are you saying?That the court thinks that Nuriko and I...that we..."He let out an angry huff of air, pressed his palms firmly down onto the table top."That's ridiculous.Surely they can't actually believe such a thing."  
The man lifted his shoulders into a slight shrug, gazed at him almost patronizingly."Speaking very frankly, Heika-sama...I'm beginning to wonder about such things myself."  
"_What?_"  
"Well, Heika," the man continued quietly, "you have been spending a great amount of time with that...man recently.And, if what I've heard was correct, you were well aware that he was _not_ a young lady when he accompanied you to your birthday celebration.Frankly, I can't help but wonder...particularly since you seem to show no interest at all in any of the other harem women.Before, we always dismissed your disinterest because of your insistence that your love was Suzaku no Miko...but, Heika...the Miko has come, and yet, you still have no taken an empress."  
"Please, Heika," interjected another of the men, rising to his feet and joining the other, "distance yourself from the shichiseishi Nuriko now, before you lose the respect of your people!"  
"Yes," the older agreed firmly."If you do not, you risk losing more than you may ever be able to get back, and frankly...in such dire times as these, with Kutou pressing at our borders...you cannot _afford_ to lose the country's respect.It'll plunge us into chaos, make it all the easier for Kutou to invade...Heika, you must understand that all that we've done, we've done for you.Konan can_not_ afford this!"

"Put him back in the dungeons," the second insisted."If you wish, he won't be abused anymore...but, you need to break away from him before he can pollute your mind any further."  
Hothori frowned."Pollute my mind?What in the name of Suzaku are you talking about??"  
"Heika," the older said quietly, "it's well-known that these...people can be bad influences on others...and, on someone like yourself, who is lonely, showing no interest in the beautiful women around you...it makes it all the easier.And, someone like Nuriko, who looks so much like a woman...it's no wonder you've found yourself falling in love with him."  
Hotohori rose to his feet, slammed his palms down hard on the table."I am _not_," he bellowed, "in love with Nuriko!And, I'm not going to put him back in the dungeons, send him away, or do anything else you want me to do!He will stay where he is, in my chambers, until he is well, and after that, he'll go back to his rooms and never be _touched_ by you or anyone else again!In fact," he continued in a lower, harsher voice, "if I ever--_ever_--hear of anyone hurting or disrespecting him, I won't hesitate to take _extreme_measures against them.What's holding this country together is Suzaku no Miko, and the hope that--with her help--we'll call Suzaku and bring peace to the land.Nuriko is part of that--he is a Suzaku shichiseishi.He was _chosen_ by Suzaku.Do you understand that?He was chosen!If he's good enough for Suzaku, he should be good enough for you."He let out a heavy breath of air, sank down into his chair."Get out of here.I want to be alone."  
"But, Heika--"  
"GO!"  
The advisors exchanged worried glances with one another, seemed about to protest again...but, then they filed from the room in silence, shuffled out onto the palace walkway, and shut the door behind them.Hotohori sat there for a long moment, his hands clenched together on the table, still shaking slightly from the anger, the disbelief, the outrage.It was just...unbelievable.That the people he trusted had done this...that they'd taken an innocent man--a _friend_--and put him through this hell, locked him away, beaten him, hurt him so badly that he could barely move...that they had done this made him so angry that he wanted, very badly, to hit something.The anger balled up in his muscles, clenched in his jaw, made every inch of his body tense and almost painfully-tight.Finally, he let out an angry breath, rose to his feet and stalked out of the room.Nuriko was sleeping when he entered, and didn't wake up even as he moved swiftly over the carpet, swung open the closet doors, and drew the sword out from within.As he stalked back to the door, however, he heard a soft exhalation of breath from the bed, listened to the slight rustle of shifting blankets.

"Hotohori-sama?"  
He paused almost guiltily, turned to face the other seishi."Hai?"  
Nuriko was still lying on his side in the bed, the covers dragged to his chin.He frowned a bit, a trickle of confusion creeping into his eyes."Sword?" he murmured."Why?"  
The young emperor glanced down at the slim length of metal in his hands as if just noticing its presence, sighed softly."I'm going to practice," he explained quietly."In the gardens.It...relaxes me."  
Nuriko nodded slightly, tugged the blankets more closely to his chin and curled up beneath them.Taking the action for a dismissal, the young emperor began to move back towards the door, dragging the slender blade along with him...but stopped, again, as the other man's soft voice met his ears.

"Hotohori-sama?"  
He turned again, saw that Nuriko's eyes were closed."Hm?"  
"The walls," he murmured, pointing to the far wall, the one that adjoined with the conference room."Very thin."He smiled, softly."You can hear every word."  
Hotohori felt his eyes go wide."Nuriko..."  
"It's all right," he whispered."Thank you...for defending me."He smiled."Baka advisors.Can't believe they thought you were in love...with me."

"Nuriko..."  
"Iie, Hotohori-sama."Again, that soft smile." Daijobu.Go practice.You need to relax...ne?"  
Suddenly unable to think of anything else to say, Hotohori left the room.He walked so quickly down to the gardens that a few surprised maids were forced to leap out of his way to avoid being struck, and it was only once he reached the soft, fragrant depths that he relaxed, breathed more softly, was able to walk without stomping.


	5. The Man Beneath the Braid - 5

~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~

He'd never been so exhausted in his life.

He'd been in the gardens for hours, moving silently through the familiar cuts and slashes of his sword routines, completely ignoring the world around him...feeling only the warm tension of his own muscles, the comfortable weight of the hilt in his hand...the intricate dance of the sword sweeping out before him.When the world came back into focus around him, the stars were shining brightly in the sky and he was having trouble finding breath.It wasn't until he glanced down at himself that he saw that he was both sweating and shaking...and that his arms were so heavy that he was having difficulty even holding the sword.He didn't know how much time had passed...but, it was nearly midnight by the time he stumbled into his chambers, tugged off his boots, and began to make his way towards the closet to change into his night clothes.

He paused on his way, the sound of something rustling catching his attention...and let out a soft sigh, remembering that Nuriko lay sleeping in his bed.On impulse, he walked to the edge of the bed, gazed down at the smaller seishi for a long moment, and felt his heart twisting again at the sight of so many wounds, so much pain...Nuriko was bathed in a cool wash of moonlight, his features smoothed and innocent in sleep, the breath slipping softly through his parted lips in a gentle, lulling rhythm.The bandages, stained a light crimson from the sticky blood beneath them, clung to his pale flesh, spanned most of his chest, arms, legs...but, the soft blue gown covered most of them, rested softly against the slim, slender shoulders, the thin arms...the flat, modestly-muscled chest.Despite the state of his body, Nuriko looked strangely peaceful as he lay there, eyes lightly closed, lashes flickering slightly beneath the weight of his dreams...and Hotohori suddenly found himself sitting there on the edge of the bed, gazing down at the smaller man in a kind of awed fascination.

How strong was this man?This man, who'd spent so long living someone else's life...this man who'd suffered through taunts and ridicule without even a complaint, who'd let himself be taken, imprisoned, beaten, all to adhere to royal commands...this man who'd never once looked on him with anything but love and respect.This man who still had the will to smile, even consumed in what must've been a flood of agonizing pain.How strong was this man??

_Stronger than I,_ the young emperor concluded silently._Gods...so much stronger than I._

After spending another silent moment perched on the edge of the soft mattress, Hotohori rose to his feet, moved to the corner of the room and tugged open his closet.A few moments later, he'd drawn out a soft white night shirt and was tugging it on over his head, shrugging easily out of the heavy robes of his station.He felt a bit strange, changing in the same room as Nuriko...but, why should he?After all...Nuriko was, indeed, a man, and had certainly seen whatever he had to show before...but, for some reason, the image of the young seishi as a woman still lingered in his mind, colored his behavior, tinged his reactions.He paused for a moment, the soft cloth of the nightshirt still drooping over his head, and felt a small frown trickle onto his lips.

Was that why he felt so inclined to protect Nuriko, even now?Because he still thought of him as female?

Hotohori shook his head and finished dressing, and a few moments later was walking silently from the room, leaving Nuriko sleeping peacefully behind him.

Once outside, in the stuffy warmth of his outer chamber, he sighed, let his shoulders slump.Last night, he'd spent the night out here, sprawled out on the soft, comfortable cushions of the sofa...but, it was small, it was cramped, and he was much too weary to even consider spreading the blankets over the cushions, scrunching his legs up to accommodate the small couch.He sighed again.Where in the name of Suzaku was he going to sleep?He considered, briefly, curling up in the middle of the floor--he was certainly tired enough to--but eventually decided against it, thinking of the pain he'd be in tomorrow after spending the night on such a hard surface.A dark shadow flitted into his mind.

Of course, his pain would be nothing compared to Nuriko's...and, after all, he _was _the emperor...sleeping on the floor wouldn't kill him...

He shook his head, sending soft waves of chestnut hair flooding over his shoulders.No.No, not the floor.A slight smile twisted at his lips.Besides...if any of his advisors were to walk in tomorrow morning, catch the emperor of Konan curled up on the carpet like a puppy...they would most definitely not be pleased.

Not that he minded if they were unhappy or not, considering what they'd done...but, regardless, it didn't seem like a good idea.He took a few steps forward, grabbed a blanket up from the couch and moved silently to the door.A few moments later, he was out in the cool wash of darkness, the soft fragrances of flowers and river water rising up from the distance, mingling together in his nostrils...making him breathe deeply, freely.It was a beautiful night.Clear, moonless sky...bright, twinkling pinpricks of light, spreading out in a midnight blanket above him...and the wind--soft...cool...a breeze, a caress...it felt wonderful.

He had a fleeting image of himself lying in a puddle of blankets out here on the walkway, but forced himself to put it out of his head almost immediately.It would certainly be a pleasant night's sleep...but, if sleeping on the floor in his outer chambers was a less-than-wise idea, sleeping on the hard wood of the palace walkway was even worse.

But...if not in his chambers...if not out here...then, where?

He'd been wandering aimlessly down the walkway for a few minutes, breathing deeply and enjoying the soft scents of the night, when...abruptly...a thought struck into him.He paused for a moment in the center of the walkway, thinking, considering...felt a slow nod twist at his neck.

After all, if Nuriko was using _his_ bed...

His feet tapped lightly against the wooden boards of the walkway, tugged him swiftly to his destination...swiftly to the door that still hung slightly open, still filled him with a dark, irrational anger.His long fingers stretched forward, pushed the door silently open before him...filled the darkened chambers with the soft silver flickers of starlight.No maids had been in to clean since Nuriko had been taken, and so the table still lay rocking on its side, and the vase still lay in shattered fragments beside it, the soft petals of its contents drying and browning with thirst.Drawing in a soft breath and trying to quell the dulled anger still clawing at his nerves, Hotohori took a long step into the room, dropped his armful of blankets down onto the edge of the bed, and then closed the door quietly behind him.

For a long moment, he just stood there, motionless in the center of the room, and let the darkness swallow him up.There was a window, just above the bed, that let in a soft flood of silver from the night sky, but other than that, he was consumed in a flood of unseeing blackness.Sighing softly, Hotohori sank down onto the bed, let his hands rest lightly on his lap.There was something about being here, in the shadows of Nuriko's room, surrounded by the other man's things, that made him strangely sad.He pondered on that for a few moments, drawing in a long breath of the cool, flowery air, feeling the warm touch of the cotton blankets against his legs, pressing his feet against the solidity of the wooden floor beneath him.

Finally, he let out another soft sigh, rose to his feet, and set to the task of locating a candle in the blackness.He journeyed to the opposite side of the room, let his fingers travel lightly over the surface of the bureau, down over the drawers, onto the small table...ah.There.He lifted the cool bronze of the candle holder, set it down against the edge of the bureau, and quickly lit it.

Immediately, the room was bathed in a soft, flickering gold, painting soft shadows over the tousled blankets on the bed, drawing the farthest corners into the light, and bringing the upended table and flowers more clearly into focus.It was only then that he noticed it.

It had been lying open on the bureau.He gathered Nuriko had intended to put it away, but had never gotten the chance--had been taken before he could hide it away, keep it from view...He didn't intend to read it.In fact, the thought of delving into what appeared to be Nuriko's private writings didn't appeal to him at all, neither as an emperor nor a friend...but, it was there...it was open...and, so he lifted the small book up into his hands, crossed the room to the bed, and sat down.

Nuriko's handwriting was compact, precise...but, there was something strangely free about the thin lines and curves, something wide and expansive and flowing...something that made him smile.The smile faded, however, as his traveling fingers flipped to one of the later entries in the small journal, and he caught a glimpse of his own name there, etched neatly against the soft white of the page...

---

_Entry:24_

_Time:Early Afternoon_

_Well, I survived another day of hell.Aren't you proud of me, Journal-chan?I know I said before that I wasn't sure if I was even going to be able to stand staying at the palace with everyone knowing, but I think now that I can do it.It'll be hard, of course--all the court ladies hate me now, except for Houki and a few others...all the guards wants me dead, probably because they're pissed off for having found a man so attractive...and, Hotohori-sama's advisors, if they ever found out...gods, I can only imagine what they'd do.They've been pushing so hard for Hotohori-sama to choose me as his empress...how would they feel, knowing their first choice is really a man?I know I'm going to have a chance to find out eventually, of course.Word will reach them some time no matter what I do...but, it's all right.I think that...no matter what happens...I can stay here.Iie...I HAVE to stay here._

_Miaka's in her world...but, she's going to come back, ne?And, when she does, she'll need me.Besides...I can't leave Hotohori-sama.Not just because I love him...but, because now that Tamahome's gone, I'm the only one who he seems to be able to talk to.I couldn't leave him.So, I'll stay._

_I got spit on today.That was a first.Usually, the ladies just snub their noses at me or turn the other way...but, today, a few of them spit on me.It didn't bug me, of course.I mean, what did I expect?I expected hatred...disgust...and, I got it.I just hope none of them decides to act like Aarin and pull a knife on me...I don't know if I can explain any more scars to Hotohori-sama._

---

The young emperor paused, frowning, ignoring the rest of the entry for a moment as he thought.Aarin?A knife?Scars?He scanned his memory, spent a long moment examining the last few weeks, struggling to find the place where the name resonated...and then, suddenly, he had it.Of course.Aarin.One of the court guards, dismissed by request a few weeks ago for family problems...due to return in just a few days to continue his duties.But...His frown deepened, and he began flipping back through the pages, running his eyes quickly down over the words in search of some reference to the incident...

He froze.There.

The page was dark, a bit crumpled at the edges, the handwriting slightly shakier than most of the other entries...and...And there, in the very lowest corner, there was a tiny, barely-visible smudge of crimson.Blood?Nuriko's blood?The line between his eyes thickening in confusion, Hotohori leaned over the page and began to read.

---

_Entry:18_

_Time:Midnight_

_I almost died tonight.I think I'm still shaking._

_Of course, I knew Aarin wasn't going to react all that well to finding out I was a man--he's been fawning over me for the past year, trying to get me to leave the harem and marry him...how did I think he would react to finding out??Still...I guess I still kind of hoped that he might be more mature about it.After all, he didn't love me for my gender, did he?He loved me for me...at least, I thought so.Anyway._

_I guess he heard from one of the serving girls.I'm still not sure how any of the court's found out, but I have a hunch.I mean, after all, who else is there in the palace who knows my secret?It had to have been either Hotohori-sama or Tamahome.I don't blame them for it, of course--it was probably an accident.I doubt either of them would've done something like that out of spite...but, regardless, the damage is done.A lot of the court knows...and, more is finding out.Pretty soon everyone will know...gods.How can I even stay here anymore, if it's going to mean putting up with this hatred and this anger every day?Maybe the next person who tries to kill me won't miss._

_Anyway...I'm exhausted, so I'll try to make this quick.I knew he was going to find out soon, and I wanted it to be from me...but, by the time I got there, he'd already heard...so, I just told him that it was true and tried to make him see my reasons.I even tried explaining to him a little bit about Korin...but, he didn't want to listen.We were in his quarters, even though it's not proper for court ladies to be alone with men in their rooms...but, it didn't seem to matter much, since most of them knew what I was, anyway.Regardless...Aarin wasn't all that pleased.He got up and walked over to the window.I thought it was just to get some fresh air, maybe gain some perspective on things...but, no.He's always been so good at hiding his anger...he hid this anger from me almost until it was too late._

_It's all kind of a blur now, but he spun on me and I caught a glimpse of metal and so I ducked out of the way...but, he still managed to give me a pretty deep cut across the top of my wrist--hurts like hell, too.But, anyway--I got the knife away from him and got out of there as quickly as I could, and I came straight back here to my room.I'm not all that afraid that he'll come after me--Aarin's one of those people who'll reconsider most actions if he has enough time to think about them...but, the truth is, he almost killed me tonight.If I hadn't ducked...he would've gotten me right in the chest.Poof.Gone.No more me.It's a scary thought...but, I guess I have to get used to it.After all, being a Suzaku seishi...there's going to be fighting.I might die.Hotohori-sama might die.Tamahome might die.Miaka might even die._

_Mattaku, what's wrong with me tonight?I almost get killed and suddenly all I can think about is death.Gomen ne, Journal-chan.I'm tired and not thinking straight.Demo, I'll see if I can write a bit tomorrow morning--if my wrist isn't bothering me too much.It was bleeding pretty badly for awhile...but I wrapped it and it seems to be doing better now.I think I heard somewhere that seishi heal more quickly than normal people...but, Suzaku only knows if that's true._

_Anyway.I guess it's long sleeves for me tomorrow.Oyasumi._

_ _

_-Nuriko_

---


	6. The Man Beneath the Braid - 6

---  
  
The Man Beneath the Braid - 6  
  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
When he awoke, the sun was just starting to slip up over the edge of the sill, bending at the panes of glass and casting a soft, warming golden glow over the interior of the room. The room itself was just as he remembered it from his dreams--large, expansive, tastefully-decorated...but, sparse, somehow, even in the wake of its very fullness. Empty...  
  
//Empty of life...?\\  
  
For an instant, he wondered if perhaps he was dead, if maybe this was some trick of the aferlife...but, he put the thought out of his head almost immediately. After all...he had memories of the last few slow, pain-drowsy days, of being tended to by Hotohori-sama...of being bandaged, dressed, cleaned, fed... Suddenly wrapped in the reality of the memories, Nuriko let a heavy breath pass between his lips, dropped his head back down onto the pillow and closed his eyes. Above him, he knew, was the bed's satiny, cream-colored canopy, and beyond that, hints of the smooth, polished wood of the ceiling...   
  
Hotohori wasn't here. He knew it even without looking around, even without calling out...he wasn't here. It was strange...but, as he lay here with his eyes closed, he could almost feel the warmth of the younger man's hand on his forehead, could almost hear that soft, soothing bass, muted in comfort or apology...or, twisted in anger, like he'd heard echoing through the thin, papery walls...   
  
//I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH NURIKO!!\\  
  
Groaning softly in memory, the young seishi rolled over in the bed, felt the whispery touch of the long, vaguely-unfamiliar braid, tracing careful lines over his skin as he moved. He fingered the braid for a moment, tugged it up from where it lay and stared at it in the warming light of the morning...felt the silken strands of violet between his fingers. Hotohori had braided this himself...must have. He'd taken this hair into those slim, imperial fingers, twisted and plaited it into this perfect, loving braid...  
  
Nuriko closed his eyes, tried to forget about the pain, inside and out. But, a part of him wanted to be miserable for awhile...wanted to stop being strong, stop being in-control... A part of him just wanted to FEEL. So, he did feel. He lay quietly beneath the blankets, braid dangling lifelessly from his fingers, and remembered...felt.   
  
The tears were hot in his eyes by the time the memories exhausted themselves.  
  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
[italics]  
  
"Come to my chambers when you've finished," he said. Come to my chambers...  
  
Nuriko sighed happily, hugging slim arms to his chest and continuing on the slow, dancing walk back to his room. Hotohori was being so kind to him recently...so caring, so...loving? No, not quite...but, there was SOMETHING there, wasn't there? Maybe nothing more than friendship...maybe never anything more...but, gods, it WAS something, wasn't it? Here he was, returning to his chambers after a morning spent with the emperor himself...with Hotohori-sama...and, even though he knew that he was no longer the delicate harem woman the other girls were so jealous of...he still couldn't help but wish that he could drop by the harem itself, gloat for a bit...  
  
Naturally, the others all knew who he really was by now, so it wouldn't really be gloating so much as invitation to be scorned...but, still! It might be fun to stop by...maybe talk to Houki... Gods, he missed her--he hadn't realized how long it'd been since they'd last spoken, or how much he'd missed those soft, calmingly-melodic comments to offset his rantings... She'd always said how much she wished Hotohori-sama would choose him--what would she think now, knowing him for what he was, but knowing, also, that he'd completely monopolized Hotohori's attention for the last two days?? That he was closer to the emperor, now, than any of the harem girls might ever-ever-ever have a chance to be?  
  
He couldn't resist. Smiling slightly and already feeling a happy-nervous tingle working its way up his spine, Nuriko grabbed onto the edge of the palace walkway, vaulted over the smooth wooden banister, and felt the satisfying THUD of his feet squishing into the moist, earthy topsoil on the other side. He grinned, took a moment to regain his balance...and realized with a bit of a start just how GOOD that had felt. Of course, he would've never been able to get away with doing something like that dressed as a woman--nor would he have really have been able to physically DO such a thing with those skirts tangling around his legs. But, now, wearing these clothes, walking without shuffling his feet or bowing his head or clasping his hands together...god, it felt GOOD! It felt...it felt freeing and perfect and wonderful...  
  
And, Hotohori had given this to him. Even if he didn't love him as anything more than a friend...even if he was deluding himself by ever thinking that the young emperor could see him as more than that...it was all right. Because, Hotohori had given this to him...given him this gift. He wondered, vaguely, what he could ever do to repay the young emperor for this--if there was anything he COULD do that would even come close to giving back some of what he'd found so unselfishly bestowed upon him.  
  
//I'll love him,\\ he decided after a moment of thought, already moving in the familiar, circuitous route that he knew led to the harem. //I'll love him. As much as I can, for as long as I live. I'll love him.\\  
  
And, then, he was turning a corner, starting down the grassy, guard-strewn path, moving towards the slow rise of that familiar, reddish building...and suddenly, a dark shadow cut across his path, made him skid to a halt, stare with blinking, confused eyes to whoever or whatever had blocked his path...  
  
"This is the harem," a gravelly voice rumbled, face partially obscured by the brilliance of the morning sun behind it.   
  
Nuriko frowned, took a slight step back and managed to get a clearer view of that face, stern and pinched and irritated. He recognized the man vaguely, having seen him around the palace and the harem in the past, but...what the hell did he think he was doing?  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "The harem," he echoed a bit impatiently. "Hai, I know. Now, if you don't mind..." He took a few steps forward, made to slide around the guard...and, found his way blocked again, the slender shaft of a spear pointed dangerously near to his chest.  
  
"This is the harem," the man repeated in the same low, irritated-but-bored bass. "No men allowed."  
  
He stared in blank confusion for a moment, about to open his mouth and state the obvious...but, then, he paused, realized with a start that he was still clad in the clothes Hotohori had had made for him...that he looked, despite his feminine features, like a BOY.  
  
"Mattaku!" he exclaimed, bringing a hand to his forehead. "Good gods, I don't believe this..." He sighed, shook his head slightly and stared challengingly back up at the guard. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll be back."  
  
Then, he spun on his heel, stamped his foot down, and stomped back down the path, back around the edge of the building, back up onto the walkway, back past Hotohori-sama's chambers, back around the corner and towards the guest chambers. Several minutes later, he shoved open the door to his personal chambers, moved irritably to the closet and began searching for an appropriate dress. Nothing too fancy--no use dirtying one of his best when it was only to get into the harem so he could talk to Houki... Good gods, what a PAIN...  
  
And, then, suddenly, there came a crash from behind him, what sounded suspiciously like the door being thrown open, slamming into the wall...and then, from somewhere behind him, the sound of the small table beside the bed, which had been leaning against the wall and must've caught some of the shock of the slam, crashing to the floor, spilling its contents all over the soft wood...the shatter of glass. Frowning but not overly alarmed yet, he turned, the satiny fabric of a simply blue dress resting lightly in his fingers...and felt his eyes widen, his muscles tense. This wasn't...wasn't right...  
  
He forced himself to speak, to deny... "What do you want?" he asked quietly. It felt like the breath had fled his lungs...like his words were hollow, without life...like they were as dead as he had an aching suspicion he was going to be shortly.  
  
Two heavy sets of booted feet thundered into the room, made way for their stretching counterparts to latch onto him, capture his slim arms within thick, meaty hands three times the size of his own. As the guards slid from the doorway to advance upon him, however, he saw a slender, robed form step out from where it had stood just behind them, and he recognized it almost immediately as Jokuko-san, one of Hotohori-sama's advisors. In fact... The echoes of the conversation returned to him then, in a flood of memory, and he felt a chill work its way through his body.  
  
//"Demo, Nuriko-san...we know Heika-sama enjoys your company--and, after all, it would only be for one evening. Keeping him company for the celebration, sharing a dance with him at the ball afterwards...for appearances, really. And, then, who knows? Perhaps he might take even MORE of a liking to you, make you his empress. Please, I've seen the way you look at him. You love him...and, not in the way the other harem girls do. You honestly LOVE him. If you do, Nuriko-san...please, do us this favor. We want so much for Heika-sama to be happy..."\\  
  
  
"Jokuko-san," he murmured.  
  
The man took a long step into the room, the thin, whitening strands of his beard twitching beneath a clenched jaw, eyes dark and cold and glowing with anger. "Nuriko," he said flatly. There was no emotion in that voice...no feeling, no warmth. Just nothingness.   
  
He felt himself begin to shake. "I'm sorry," he whispered, KNOWING suddenly what was going on...KNOWING why he was being grabbed, why Jokuko was glaring at him like that... why the muscled hands pressing into his biceps were squeezing more tightly than they had any right to. "I'm sorry. Jokuko-san, I didn't do it to--"  
  
"Be quiet." The toneless command cut him off, made him close his mouth, be suddenly, irrevocably silent. "Please," the old advisor continued, lips compressing into a thin line, "don't insult us both with excuses." Jokuko let out a soft, weary breath, then leaned back a bit and seemed to accept a bit of humanity into his face. "You know why I'm here, Nuriko."  
  
It was not a question. Nuriko nodded.  
  
"Good." The humanity seemed to draw a deep breath, grow almost sorrowful. "And, if you know that, then you know where you're going."  
  
Nuriko nodded again. He wasn't shaking anymore, felt very little at all aside from the grips on his arms, the heavy, panting breath tickling against the backs of his ears.   
  
Jokuko nodded once, very slightly, and then, Nuriko felt himself being shoved forward, dragged out through the open doorway, out onto the smooth wood of the walkway...out towards the squat, unassuming building he knew held the entrance to the dungeons...to the lower levels where a man could scream for hours and never be heard.   
  
He wondered, vaguely, if Hotohori would ever know what had happened to him...if anyone would tell him.   
  
If anyone would care enough to tell him.   
  
Glancing at Jokuko's hardened profile as they moved, noticing the way the anger still clung to those soft, kindly features...he doubted it.  
  
---   
  
  
  
  
*AN: This flashback isn't done yet, folks. ^_~. As it is, I'm probably going to spend some time tracing the happenings of the last few chapters in Nuriko's POV, and then jump back to Hotohori and continue onward. S'arright? S'arright... ~Ryuen 


	7. The Man Beneath the Braid - 7

The Man Beneath the Braid - 7  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He sat quietly in a shadowed corner, slim arms wrapped around his legs, chin resting lightly on the tops of his knees. The minutes seemed to tick by with almost painful slowness, keeping time with the slow, agonized drip of water against the floor...with the soft tapping of the guard's fingertips against his spear, just beyond the reach of the bars.   
  
He'd given up trying to talk his way out of what awaited him...had even given up trying to convince the guard to give him some paper, something to write with...so perhaps he could apologize to Hotohori-sama...to Miaka, Tamahome. But, the guard didn't even seem to hear his requests...so, he instead opted to sit silently in the corner, settle things with himself and his god as best he could before he heard the thud of boots coming down those stairs for what he knew would be the final time.  
  
Sighing softly, Nuriko closed his eyes, brushed a brief, trembling hand through his hair. As he drew his fingers free, however, he couldn't help but watch how the silken strands clung to his flesh, how they shone so softly--even in the low light--as if consumed with their own warm, comforting violet radiance. It really was beautiful hair, he reflected, feeling a soft smile touching at his lips. It flowed free and wild over his shoulders, tumbled down his back in thick, heavy waves...and, then, there was the soft, flowery scent of lilac that still clung to the waves, still surrounded him in a cloud of solace and familiarity and comfort...  
  
The smile faded a bit, dropped a touch of the warmth from his lips. "You were with me all along, weren't you, Korin?" he whispered, drawing his fingers up and out, letting the flood of hair pour back down onto his shoulders, lie still against his chest. His eyes drifted closed. "And, now...now I'll be with you again...won't I? Together forever...ne?"  
  
But....leaving these people...these people he loved... Leaving Hotohori-sama...Miaka...Tamahome...leaving before meeting the other seishi, before learning about them, drawing them into the slowly-expanding circle of friendship and love he was just beginning to experience...  
  
//Wait.\\  
  
Something paused within him, made him stop...freeze.   
  
//Wait.\\  
  
Nuriko sat up, straightened his back against the cool stone of the wall, opened his eyes and drew in a sharp breath. "They can't kill me," he murmured, a slow, tingling ripple of shock sliding up his spine, shivering its way straight to the core of his being. "They can't kill me...because..."  
  
//They need me.\\  
  
The thud of booted feet on the staircase drew him up out of his thoughts, made him turn towards the cell door, watch as two uniformed guards came into view, exchanged brief words with the man standing just outside. After a curt, firm nod from the man, the two guards stepped up to the door, spent a moment jangling the key within the lock...then, swung it open, took a few thudding steps inside.   
  
Nuriko rose to his feet, careful not to stumble over the rope dangling from his wrists, and watched as the guards parted, made way for a familiar robed figure.   
  
"Jokuko-san," he acknowledged softly, offering a slight nod. His hands, he let hang respectfully in front of him, brushing lightly against the smooth, silken fabric of his new tunic and pants.   
  
The man seemed vaguely surprised at being addressed, paused a moment before entering fully into the cell, smoothing absently at his robes as if the wrinkleless fabric was in need of such attention. "Nuriko," he said formally, inclining his head slightly. "I have not looked forward to this..."  
  
Nuriko closed his eyes, drew in a soft breath. "Please," he said quietly. "Don't stretch this out."  
  
The man stared at him for a long moment, blinked as if unable to comprehend him...then closed his eyes softly, nodded. "Very well," he murmured. "Let it not be said that you faced your fate without bravery." His gaze shifted, slid to the taller of the guards...the one who was staring at the young seishi with wide, stricken eyes, looking as if he was about to turn and run in the other direction. "Lochu. Begin. I will...return in a few hours."  
  
The man called Lochu turned quickly, regarded Jokuko with wide, stricken eyes. "But...but, sir...I can't..."  
  
Jokuko's eyes narrowed. "What is it?"  
  
The man shook his head almost violently, glanced back to Nuriko with eyes large and blinking in the dimness. "Sir...I can't...to a woman..."  
  
Jokuko sighed. "Lochu, this is not a woman."  
  
"But...but, sir..."  
  
"This is NOT a woman." The dark eyes snapped up to focus on the young seishi, stared at him for a long moment before speaking. "Nuriko. Remove your shirt."  
  
For a long moment, he stood there, motionless and uncomprehending...and, then, he held up his wrists, waited as the other guard tugged the ropes away, let them drop heavily against the floor. And, then, he bent slightly, lifted the silken bottoms of his tunic...and pulled it up over his head.   
  
Lochu stared at him, looking shocked and almost stricken. For a moment, Nuriko was afraid the man was going to rush over to him, touch his chest just to be sure that it wasn't some sort of illusion.  
  
//Where the hell has he been the last few weeks??\\  
  
"A...a man...?"  
  
Jokuko sighed. "Yes. Lochu...if this is going to be a problem..."  
  
The other guard, the one who had removed his binds, immediately straightened, surged forward and gripped onto Nuriko's wrists, ripped him away from the wall and threw him hard onto the floor in the center of the cell. The young seishi hit the ground hard, somehow managed to avoid smashing his head onto the stone.   
  
The guard straightened again, offered Lochu and Jokuko a smug smile. "I will do it, sir. Lochu may...retire to his end of the dungeon if he so wishes."  
  
The elderly advisor closed his eyes, nodded slightly, and motioned for Lochu to leave. A moment after the tall guard had stepped out of the cell, Jokuko bowed his head slightly, seemed to stare at Nuriko with something like pain in his eyes...and then, he took a long step out into the hall, watched as the door slid closed behind him. Meanwhile, Nuriko had picked himself up again, stood as tall and proud as he could with the bruises of the fall throbbing painfully against his shoulder and legs.   
  
"Remember, Hon," Jokuko warned, his face shadowed and lined through the gaps in the bars, "he is shichiseishi. He must not die."  
  
Then, the advisor turned, drew his hands into the folds of his robes, and hurried up the nearby stairs...even as the guard--the one called Hon--drew a long, slender whip from his back...and turned back to Nuriko with what could only be called a smile drifting over his lips.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
AN: More to come. I'm trying to keep a balance between my fics...but I can tell you right now, I'm going to be trying to finish this story, A Fragile Light, and perhaps get another chapter of Choose Your Own Adventure out before I do anything else. Then, friends, I plan on turning my attention back to The Last Wish and, perhaps, I'm Him. Thanks for your patience, and if you've made it this far, do leave a review. They make me sewwwww heppy. ^_^. 


	8. The Man Beneath the Braid - 8

  
---  
  
The Man Beneath the Braid - 8  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was strange...but, as the whip came down the first time, as he felt the leather slice into his flesh, leave a thin, bleeding gash on his back...all he could focus on was a day from his childhood...a day he'd thought long forgotten, but which now surged back into existence with almost frightening clarity...drew him up out of the world of pain and misery and the sharp, rusty scent of blood. It was a strange, unthinking kind of disassociation, drawing him out of this cell, out of this place...out of this body and this time. He wasn't lying on a cold, dank floor, writhing as the whip stung again and again into his flesh...no. He was in the familiar streets of his home, the heat of the summer sun bathing him in a healthy sweat, making him move more slowly...lazily. His sister was beside him...and, Rokou...Rokou was there, too...and, they were going to the palace.  
  
Summer had always been his favorite time of year. It was a time when he and his siblings were free of their usual duties and chores, could run around the city freely...visit friends, play in the streets...explore. On this particular day, they were following through with one of Korin's oldest dreams, were taking the long trek to the imperial gates to catch a glimpse of the palace. The walk was long, hot, and Rokou whined for most of the way...but, once they arrived,once they stood there in front of those gates with their tiny faces pressed to the cracks in the bars--once they gazed past the shifting seas of guards and harem women and courtiers...they could see the magnificence that was the palace...could almost feel the godly radiance of the aging emperor they knew resided within.  
  
Even Rokou was speechless as they stood there, a cool breeze tingling against the backs of their necks, and stared into the realm of dreams and gods and storybooks.   
  
"It's...beautiful," Korin whispered.  
  
The two boys somehow managed to regain enough motor control to nod...but, just as Ryuen was opening his mouth to speak, a dark shadow appeared just in front of them, made them jump back, gasp...   
  
"What are you children doing here?" the guard demanded, thudding his spear angrily against the ground. He was tall, muscular...massive...and, the fact that his dark eyes were narrowed into a glare, his lips twisted down into a scowl...it made him all the more frightening, all the more deadly and mysterious.   
  
As they stood, stunned and open-mouthed, still caught up in the speechless wonder that was the palace and the fear of being caught in such an action, the guard threw open the gates, took a heavy, dangerous step towards them. "The palace gates are off limits!" he roared. "Where are your parents? What are you doing here?" And, then, he was taking a long step forward, hefting his spear even as Ryuen took a wary step backwards, placed himself in front of his younger sister protectively...  
  
"Ganen!"  
  
The voice was smooth, practiced...a golden warmth that surrounded him, felt somehow like the soft amber touch of the summer sun against his face. It didn't surprise him at all to find that the voice came from the boy who would be emperor.  
  
The young prince rode in an intricate, finely-decorated palaquin ornamented with streams of silver and gold, half of his face obscured by a flimsy curtain of very soft blue, four burly guards responsible for his movement and elevation. As the palaquin moved closer, Ryuen watched as the guard--the one called Ganen--fell to one knee, tilted his head low and focused his eyes on the ground. Not quite certain as to what was going on, the young boy put his arms protectively around his sister, noted with a bit of a smirk that Rokou had already made a run for it, was probably halfway on the road to home by now...  
  
"Ganen," the boy in the palaquin repeated, leaning forward slightly...pushing aside the window-like veil so his face emerged into the cool breeze washing by...so his eyes--a warm, liquid shade of golden-amber, as much like the sunshine as his voice--could be seen clearly across the distance between them. The boy made a vague motion with his arm, waited as the men beneath him turned the palaquin around, moved him to the edge of the gate. They did not, Ryuen noticed, carry the boy beyond the line of the gates...but, rather stood there just at the edge, just out of reach...  
  
Ganen sank lower, closed his eyes. "Your Highness," he offered reverently, letting one hand sweep across his uniformed chest in what seemed to be a show of allegiance. "I apologize for these children's presence at the gates. I was just about to--"  
  
"I realize what you were about to do," the boy interjected, his voice surprisingly strong; firm--it gave the illusion of manhood, even without the usual depth of voice to accompany it. "You were about to strike them, Ganen. Weren't you?"  
  
"Your Highness, I was only going to teach them to--"  
  
"To respect the laws set forth by my father?" the boy finished almost dryly. "Yes, I understand. But, it does not excuse that you were about to hurt them...and, they did nothing aside from look at the palace. Is that a crime, Ganen? Should I be beaten, as I'm guilty of the same thing?"  
  
Ganen blanched. "N-No, of course not, Your Highness...b-but, surely, you see the distinction--"  
  
The boy's eyes narrowed. "I see," he interrupted slowly, "that you were going to hurt them for no good, lawful reason other than because you COULD. And, that, Ganen, is an offense I'm sure my father would not appreciate..."  
  
The guard flinched...but, before he could speak, the boy sighed softly, offered a small smile that seemed to draw the warmth directly from the sun, claim it as its own.   
  
"However," he continued gently, "there's no need to report this to him. After all...it was a mistake, wasn't it, Ganen?"  
  
"Hai, Heika-sama."  
  
"And, it will never happen again."  
  
"Hai, Heika-sama. Never."  
  
The boy's smile lifted. "Good." And, then, suddenly, those warm golden eyes were on him, on he and Korin...and, he felt something change within him in that moment, felt the subtle stirrings of something he wouldn't grasp for years being born in his heart...begin the long, steady growth towards maturity. "I apologize," the young prince said, that soft, beautiful smile still clinging to his lips. "You weren't hurt, were you?"  
  
The concern in his voice...  
  
//He doesn't even know us.\\  
  
"We're...we're fine," Ryuen managed, somehow breaking free of his paralysis enough to form a coherent sentence. "Th-Thank you...Heika-sama."  
  
The boy smiled, held gazes with him for another moment that stretched into eternity...and, then, he made that same fluid gesture with his arm...vanished back behind the sheer curtain and began to move away.  
  
Ryuen stood there at the edge of the gate for a long time, unable to move...barely able to breathe...and watched the palaquin carry the boy away...watched until it vanished behind a corner--vanished like a cloud sliding over the sun.  
  
And, then, he was himself again, was aware of his sister standing there beside him, of the fact that his arms were still around her, holding her protectively...and, so he released her, took a small step back...and, they began the long, silent trek home. Rokou was waiting for them at the end of the long road leading up to the palace gates, seemed vaguely surprised to find both of them uninjured and so uncharacteristically-silent...but, he said little or nothing on the way back, anyway, and soon grew impatient enough with his siblings' silence to hurry on ahead, increase the distance between them in his hurry to be home.  
  
It was only then that Ryuen dared turn, look at Korin to see if she'd been affected as he had...if she'd felt that warmth stirring within her as he had...if she'd felt it at all. One glimpse at her face, at the wistfulness touching her features, the glow of longing in her eyes...he knew she felt the same.  
  
He smiled softly, took a moment to feel the soft warmth of the sinking sun on his cheeks, the cool, fragrant touch of the breeze against his skin. His voice was low...almost reverent. "It was beautiful...ne, Korin?"   
  
She glanced over at him almost in surprise, stared for a moment in silence...then matched the smile, met his gaze with something like comprehension in her eyes. "Hai," she murmured. "Beautiful. I would give anything...to live there."  
  
Ryuen closed his eyes briefly, felt Korin's hand slide into his own and nodded. "Hai," he agreed softly. "So would I."  
  
---  
  
The past faded away...cruelly...slowly...and, he came back to reality with a start, felt the slice of the whip so clearly that he cried out...bit down on his lip hard and tasted blood on his tongue.   
  
He was back in the cell, back in reality...back in the cold darkness, the wet floor...the heat of his own blood surrounding him, bathing him...suffocating him. He was back...gods...not now...please...it hurt...  
  
Struggling against a sudden spasm of pain rippling up his spine, Nuriko closed his eyes, sank very low to the floor...lay curled on his side with arms wrapped around his legs...eyes squeezed shut tightly enough that the tears couldn't find their way out, couldn't sting down over his cheeks, mix with the blood and make him lose even this faint strength he still had left. And, for a moment, as he lay there straining to regain control, the pain stopped...the whip stopped...and, he could lie there, the breath wheezing in and out of his lungs, the tears lying hot and dark against his eyelids, and be at peace...  
  
...and, then, he heard the grunt of the guard--Hon, he remembered--raising his arm, heard that angry swish...and, the pain came back with a vengeance. It was hot...searing...stinging against his back, his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his legs...everwhere...everywhere...gods, it hurt so much...so much...   
  
He held it in for as long as he could. He lay there and closed his eyes and tried to think of something else, tried to place himself somewhere else...tried to think of people he loved, people who made it easy to forget the pain...easy to suffer through it, to justify it...but, it just wasn't enough. And, as even Hotohori's face faded before his eyes...as even that comforting light left him...he couldn't stop himself.  
  
He screamed. He screamed, thrashed on the floor...begged for it to end. Begged to be allowed to die...  
  
"Please," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, barely recognizable as his own. "Please...kill..." He began to cough, tasted the blood on his lips again...stared up at the guard with wide, pleading eyes. He felt the agony twisting at every ounce of his being, grabbing him up in a neverending flood of anguish...pain...why couldn't it go away? Why couldn't he just...just break away...be free...?  
  
"Please," he managed, stemming back the coughing with all of what remained of his self-control. "Please...let me...let me... Please."  
  
There was a long pause. The man stood above him, whip dangling from his fingers, breath rasping in and out of his lungs...something like compassion in his eyes. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, to catch its breath...to let HIM breathe.   
  
//Please,\\ he begged silently. //Please...it's not worth it...it hurts so much...\\  
  
Then, time surged into motion again...and, Hon raised the whip, hit him again. Again. Again.  
  
Again.  
  
"I'm sorry," Hon said quietly...and, it seemed strange to hear a touch of humanity to his voice, a slow, growing sorrow that hinted at something more than just a cold-hearted guard...made him wonder if maybe there wasn't a man underneath there...someone he knew was hating every instant of this day... But, whatever it was, it wasn't enough. The man drew a deep breath, stretched his arm a bit. "I have orders...but, it's almost over."  
  
He stayed conscious for almost ten more minutes before he passed out...and by then, the urge to die was so strong that--had he not been so weak--he would gladly have done it himself, if only to end the pain. And, then, the darkness took him...and, the world, at last, was silent.  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	9. The Man Beneath the Braid - 9

  
---  
  
The Man Beneath the Braid - 9  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He was vaguely aware of the light...of the pain...of the nearly-inaudible sound of quiet weeping, very nearby.  
  
The soft sobs were screams against his fading thoughts, tangled, gnarled hands clawing into his heart. His eyes slid open almost without his consent, peered through a haze of violet and crimson to glimpse the source of the noise...the source of that pain.   
  
What he saw nearly made him gasp...although, he knew that it would hurt, to draw breath...so he didn't. He lay there and rested for a moment, did not breathe, did not blink...laid there and stared blankly and tried to pretend that he had died...that the pain was gone forever. It wasn't, of course, and as the world started to tilt in front of him, he was forced to draw another painful breath, draw the life back into his body and focus on the cold, cracked stone, the dark shadows of the bars...the soft orange light flooding from a torch stuck into the nearby wall.   
  
Gradually, he regained enough control of his trembling, pain-torn body to lift his head a bit from the floor, gaze with blurry eyes towards the wall, towards the sound...and make out a hunched, shaking figure, crying softly in the corner. And, as the world came into focus for a moment, as he saw the familiar decorated armor, the blood-stained whip still dangling from those thick, muscled fingers...he wondered, briefly, if he might be dreaming.  
  
"Do...shite?" he managed, his voice a cracked, hissing whisper.   
  
The big guard started at the sound, snapped his head up from his hands and leaped to his feet...brushed hurriedly at his eyes. It was a useless gesture, of course, as they both well knew--but, nonetheless, the man rubbed a blood-darkened thumb beneath the curve of his eyelashes, brushed the last of the tears from his cheeks even as he drew in a few harsh breaths, regained control.  
  
Nuriko closed his eyes, realized he was lying on his side on the floor, arms hanging limply at his sides, his hair a virtual cape around him...the blood pooling neatly around his body. The pain was coming back... He tried, again, to not breathe...to let himself rest in the stasis without pain.   
  
//Just don't breathe.\\  
  
He let out a soft, final breath...let himself go limp and dead against the cool stone. The room was dark, comfortable...the floor almost like a balm against his wounds...and, without breath...without life...the pain could almost be forgotten.   
  
He felt his lungs begin to burn, forced himself to ignore it. After all...it was only a mild irritation, compared with what awaited him when he drew in another breath--when he felt his ribs stretch in protest, his arms screech in pain...his stomach lurch with the scent of blood, flooding up through his nostrils.  
  
//Just...don't breathe.\\  
  
He began to grow lightheaded, ignored that, too. He felt numb...painless. Lifeless. It was better this way...ne?  
  
And, then, suddenly...he felt heavy hands on his shoulders, felt himself being hefted up into the air, placed into a forced standing position even as he forced himself to remain limp, to let his head loll back, let his arms dangle lifelessly...let his toes drift limply over the cool stone. It was almost like floating, hanging here...almost like floating.  
  
The burning in his lungs began to grow more intense, the thud of straining heartbeat in his ears more insistent.   
  
"Damn you, you can't die now!"  
  
The voice was harsh and ragged with the echoes of the tears, ripping through his thoughts...drawing him up out of the breathless death even before he realized he was allowing himself to listen. But, still...no...no...to draw breath meant to live, to feel this pain...to face those he'd let down, those he'd failed.  
  
//No. Don't breathe. Don't live.\\  
  
Dully, he felt himself being shaken, felt his feet sliding over the stone with the movement. "DAMN YOU!" Hon bellowed.   
  
The voice was so loud...the breath hot and stinging on his face.  
  
And, then, abruptly...the hands let go, let him drop...and, he fell. He crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap, felt his skull strike hard against the cold stone, his shoulder slam into the rocky floor with force enough to make him cry out in pain, draw in a great, gasping breath of air against the shock...  
  
And, then, damn it...he was breathing again. The air flooded back into his lungs in a hot, bitter rush, made him cough, choke, gag...and, the pain came surging back, too...ripped into every inch of his body until he screamed...until he could only lie weakly on his side, crying softly and trying to ignore the agony he'd come so close to dismissing.  
  
Vaguely, he became aware of a dark shape hovering above him, somehow managed to turn onto his back on the floor, gaze up through the crimson haze at those sharp, hawk-like features, twisted into a strange mix of sorrow and disgust.   
  
"Aarin said many things of you," Hon spat, his eyes dark...wide...enraged. There was such anger in those eyes, such unfathomable rage... "But, he never said that you were a COWARD!" The man shook his head again, took a long step backwards and began to pace the length of the cell...began to stamp his feet hard against the stone, each new step sending another shuddering burst of pain surging through Nuriko's body. But, he ignored the pain this time, ignored it as his eyebrows came together in confusion...as, slowly, he began to understand.  
  
"A...Aarin," he managed, his voice little more than a gasping whisper in the stillness.  
  
Hon was suddenly kneeling just beside him, the man's breath a heavy heat against his cheeks, those dark eyes narrowed and incensed above him. He felt meaty fingers digging into his arm, resisted the urge to cry out with all that remained of his willpower.  
  
"Yes," Hon hissed, tightening his grip...squeezing one slim bicep tightly enough that the young seishi felt his fingers start to go numb... "And, this isn't about revenge, either, before you ask." He shook his head, let a sharp breath slide through his lips. "This...was justice."  
  
Nuriko coughed, had to lay back on his side, spend a moment coughing weakly before he could draw in a clear breath, slide again onto his back and stare up at the guard. "Justice," he whispered.  
  
Hon nodded once, and it was only then that Nuriko noticed that the man's eyes were still wet, that they still shone softly in the torchlight. "Hai," he replied simply. "Justice. You don't need to know why."  
  
Nuriko drew in a gasping breath, lay weakly on his side and closed his eyes. The grip on his arm abruptly loosened...and, he felt warm fingers against his chin, drawing his face up from the ground...making his eyes slide open, stare into a dark, shadowed face of pain and sorrow and misery and regret.   
  
"No," Hon said quietly. His words were firm, his voice a low, deep rumble of sudden certainty. "No...I think...I DO want you to understand.   
  
"I want you to understand."  
  
  
He listened. Even as the pain shuddered through him, even as the world faded out beneath the agony of his own screams...he listened. And, slowly...slowly...he began to understand.  
  
  
  
---  
  
He was asleep again.  
  
  
In the dreams, it was dark...and he was running. Always, there was the solitary light--the warm, golden flood that always eluded him without really moving at all, that draped everything just out of reach with its amber radiance...but, left him always cold, always alone...always in the chill, stretching darkness.  
  
And, then, somehow...suddenly, Hotohori was with him, holding him...carrying him. He cried out in sudden anguish as his heart twisted painfully, caught a glimpse of that beautiful bronze-skinned face, those eyes of liquid amber...filled with tears.  
  
//Tears for me?\\  
  
//Tears...for a coward?\\  
  
  
  
He remembered, vaguely, being attended to those first few hours...days...years...eternities...gods only knew how long it had been. He remembered Hotohori caring for him with a gentle hand, a warm, sorrowful smile...remembered the touch of his fingers, the soft, dusky scent of his body and his hair and his sweat. And, he remembered, most of all, the smooth, soothing timbre of the young emperor's voice, reminding him always of that first magical time he'd heard it...of the moment when he'd known that his life would never, ever be complete without the master of that voice within it.  
  
It was more than love. It was more than devotion. It was more than physical attraction. It was more, even, than adoring this man's courage and kindness and gentility and strength...no. It was so much more than that.  
  
It was...completion.  
  
For a long moment, Nuriko lay in silence on the mattress, wrapped in the warm, comfortably-tight bandages the doctor's assistants had strapped onto him, and stared up into the canopy of the bed...stared and let himself think.  
  
//Completion. Ne, what an odd way to phrase it.\\  
  
But, somehow...it was true. He felt every ounce of his being resonate with rightness each time the young emperor was with him, felt as if this thing that he called himself was somehow incomplete...or, perhaps, broken...tattered...in need of ressurrection, of healing. And, yet, when Hotohori drew near...somehow, everything was right, perfect...complete.  
  
//Gods, can't he FEEL it??\\  
  
Sighing softly, Nuriko turned over in the bed, slid his legs carefully beneath the blankets and closed his eyes. 


	10. The Man Beneath the Braid - 10

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The Man Beneath the Braid - 10

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He awoke to an unfamiliar ceiling, wrapped in the warmth of lilac-scented blankets, and for a long moment could not remember where he was.  

He could feel the sunlight, hot and bright on his face, could hear the far-off twitter of birds, the murmur of low voices and a girl's high laughter from outside; could hear the clomp of boots on the wooden walkway, the whistle of the morning breeze against the side of the building.  It was just another morning, just another day--and, yet, even these familiar sounds seemed changed, somehow.  The angle of the wind felt different, and the laughter sounded brighter, louder; freer.  There was a note of joviality to the murmur of men's voices, and even the birds seemed to be singing more sweetly.  

_This is what the world sounds like in the morning, when it doesn't need to worry of disturbing the emperor from his sleep.  This is what a free, fearless morning sounds like..._

Memory washed into him like a surge of floodwater, then, made him sit up in Nuriko's bed and shove the blankets back from his legs.  His advisors were probably in a panic, he found himself thinking with a bit of amusement.  After all, if the slant of the sunlight was anything to judge by, it was at least two hours after the time he usually awakened, visited the Council Room to hear the morning's complaints.  His advisors were most likely frantic by now, searching every nook and cranny of the palace for some sign of him, wondering if perhaps he'd finally gotten irritated enough with them to just ride out through the gates and never come back.  Which was absurd, of course--but, he could certainly imagine the old men thinking that, wondering if perhaps they'd finally crossed the line and sent their young emperor spiralling into the madness of abandoning his duties.

Lips bent into a rare grin, Hotohori swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stretched up his arms, and let out a wide, relaxed yawn.  

_Even the emperor is free, here.  Even if it's only for a few moments._

He let himself savor the morning for a few more more seconds, warm and comfortable in the fragrant sunlight of Nuriko's small room, and then he rose to his feet, swept the hair back from his face, and moved to the door.    
  


*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Someone was shaking him.

He awoke with a start, eyes flaring open, heart clenching in sudden fear.  What was going on?  An urgent voice, a vise-like grip on his shoulder--

The world came into focus around him, then, and he saw that Jokuko-san was bending over him, his lips stretched into a grimace, the pale blue of his eyes wide and worried.  What...what was going on...?

"Nuriko-sama," Jokuko said, his voice low and dark and almost respectful.  "Onegai-shimasu.  You must help us.  Heika-sama is missing."  
  


His eyes went wide, even as some distant part of his mind realized that he was breathing more easily this morning, that he could talk and move and inhale without the usual burst of pain.  "Missing?" he echoed.  "Wh...what do you mean, he's missing?"

Jokuko shook his head, and it was only then that Nuriko noticed the thunder of booted feet charging down the walkway outside, or the roaring mumble of worried voices that seemed to come from everywhere at once.  "No one has seen him since late last night, when he...had a slight disagreement with his council."  The old advisor's eyes suddenly seemed pained, and Nuriko caught a brief glimpse of the gentle, fiercely-loyal man he'd come to know during his time at the palace; the man who loved his emperor as his son, who, Nuriko had heard, had once gone so far as to attack his own brother, when it was discovered that the man was part of a plot to have the young boy-king dethroned.  

"We fear the worst," Jokuko went on.  His voice was anguished.  "Please, you must help us.  He was angry last night.  He may have left the grounds of the palace, as irrational and unlike him as that may sound.  He could be anywhere.  You--"  Jokuko's eyes flickered to the floor, and it seemed as if his voice sank a bit.  "You know him best, Nuriko-sama.  Please.  Where would  he go?"

Nuriko frowned.  "But, the guards, at the gates...  How could Hotohori-sama have gotten past them?  Are you sure he left the palace?"  
  


Jokuko sat back a bit, suddenly seeming to realize that he was still leaning rather suffocatingly over the younger man, and closed his eyes for a moment.  "It's true," he conceded at last, "we haven't yet finished our search of the palace grounds.  But, if you know Heika-sama, then you know that he is both resourceful and intelligent.  If he meant to leave the palace grounds..."  He shook his head.  "I'm certain he could, no matter how many guards might be in place at the gates."  And then, suddenly, impossibly, Jokuko's fingers were tight around his small hand, squeezing urgently at his flesh.  "_Please_," the man whispered.  His aged features were twisted and contorted in anguish, his brow creased with fear.  "This is my fault.  If anything happened to Saihitei…I would never forgive myself."  
  


Nuriko stared at him for a long moment, trapped in the desperate warmth of those aged fingers on his hands; the piercing stare of urgent eyes.  Could he do this?  It was so soon; he wasn't even close to being entirely healed yet.  Of course, he was feeling a great deal better this morning, particularly since it seemed that the salve, whatever it had been, had done much to kill the pain, even if the wounds themselves were still there.  

But, to climb out of bed?  To stand and walk and move--it would mean more of the pain, more of the agony.  It would mean lying in this bed for much longer, possibly injuring himself further.  More pain.  Could he handle more pain?  Could he live through it again, fight back the urge to die that inevitably accompanied that kind of agony?

And, yet, Hotohori-sama...

"Help me out of bed," he said at last.  "I...I can't promise that I'll be able to find him, but..."  His jaw clenched in a mix of determination and anticipatory pain.  "I'll do whatever I can."  
  


Jokuko said nothing, but the gratitude shone like tears in his eyes.  He rose to his feet, bent slightly, and slipped an arm beneath the young seishi's back, helped him lift into a sitting position.  The sudden movement sent a jolt of pain through the eighteen-year-old, but he bit down hard on his lip, resisted the urge to cry out against it.  A few moments later, he was on his feet, supported by Jokuko's careful arm, and was making his slow way towards the door.

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AN:  More to come soon.  ^_~.  Sorry this chapter's a wee bit short, but this seemed like a good place to stop for now, ne?  Anyway, I'll get the next chapter up as soon as is Ryuenly possible, but until then, feel free to let me know what you think of this one.  It's been a lonnnnnng time since I wrote in this fic, but I've missed it. *sniffle*  Arrigato to Mouse-chan for puppy-eyeing me into writing more of it. :P


	11. The Man Beneath the Braid - 11

**Notes:**  Beware of sap, beware of shounen ai.  ...and huuuuge thanks to Mouse-chan, who gave me so much help with the last part!! ^____^.

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The Man Beneath the Braid - 11

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~*~

He'd intended, upon slipping free of the covers and starting for the door, to actually _leave_ the room, reclaim his sense and his responsibilities, and face his advisers' rage.  As he reached for the knob, however, he remembered the journal--Nuriko's journal--that still sat open on the bedside table, and stopped.

_I can't just leave it there.  He'll know that I...that I looked at it._

Letting a soft breath seep from his lips, the young emperor crossed to the table, warm sleeping robes tickling against his ankles, long chestnut hair flooding down over his shoulders.  He paused, as he moved, to return Nuriko's bed to some semblance of order--he smoothed the blankets and tucked them beneath the mattress, then did his best to return the pillows to something resembling their original shape--and then, after lowering himself onto the edge of the bed, he drew the journal up into his hands and held it.  

_It was on the bureau.  I should return it, and then get back to my duties as quickly as possible.  I doubt anyone is terribly pleased with my behavior this morning..._

And yet, something held him there, made it nearly impossible for him to simply rise to his feet, walk to the bureau, and set the journal down on top of it.  It should've been easy, a moment's endeavor, but for some reason, he couldn't seem to find the strength to stand, or the will to let the small, leather-bound journal drop from his fingers.  His flesh had warmed the soft, malleable cover in the few moments he'd been holding it, giving him the impression that it was a living thing he held between his fingers, something warm and alive...

Something that could be hurt.  Something that could stare up at him with eyes completely devoid of any malice or accusation, and smile through the pain just for his benefit.  Something that could endure so much without complaint, and still laugh and smile like nothing had ever gone wrong at all.  Something that could love so amazingly, beautifully deeply...

Something that could love _him._

His fingers trembled as he pulled open the front cover; the thin paper rippled beneath his touch as he smoothed out the first page, and as he settled in to read, it was with the knowledge that his heart was thudding rapidly in his chest, his breath coming so softly that it seemed almost not to be coming at all.

---

_Entry One._

_Morning._

_I've known for a long time, I guess, that I'm not like other people.  I mean, let's face it; a normal person wouldn't dress up like his dead sister, join the imperial harem, and then end up falling in love with the emperor, ne?  Thinking that I could bring Kourin back like this was my first mistake.  Letting myself believe that maybe, because I look like a woman, I can be loved as a woman, was my second._

_It's been three years, and he hasn't even noticed me.  I realize how whiny that sounds, but I just don't understand how he can't _feel_ it.  From the first moment I saw him, all those years ago when he saved Kourin and I outside the gates, I've known that there was something special about him, but I've lived here around him for long enough now to _know_ that there's something special about him.  He's so...so _good_.  And kind.  Being near him...  I can't explain it.  I know it's wrong of me, to even try to win his affections when I know nothing can ever come of it, but I can't help it!  I just want to be near him.  I don't care what I am to him, I think, just as long as I'm nearby...  _

_He seems so lonely.  And sad.  I've heard rumors that the reason he doesn't spend time in the Harem is because he's waiting for Suzaku no Miko, but what if...well, what if the reason he avoids the Harem, is because...well, because he's like me?  What if the reason he hasn't taken an empress yet is because he...doesn't like women?  _

_Great Suzaku, listen to me.  Calling the emperor of Konan an okama!  They'd execute me on the spot if anyone ever read this.  And talk about wishful thinking..._

_But...still.  I can't help but hope that maybe--maybe maybe maybe!--when Suzaku no Miko _does_ come, it will give me more chance to be near him, and as something more than just another Harem girl.  Maybe as a friend...  Gah, look at me.  I'm smiling just thinking about it.  _

_I'm such an idiot sometimes._

_---_

He read it all, one neatly-scribed, tentatively-hopeful entry after another, and it wasn't until he felt the coolness of moisture on his cheeks that he realized he was crying.  Startled, he let the journal drop into his lap and brought a hand to his cheek, touched the tears as if doubting their reality.  They _were_ real, however, just as the painful, clenching sensation in his heart was real, and just as the deep and desperate urge to go to Nuriko, draw him into his arms and hold him tightly until all the heartless, evil people who wanted to hurt him left forever...was real.

He had endured so much.  Once that guard--Arin--had found out about him, although he'd never tried again to take Nuriko's life, he'd spread the word to a few of his friends, and those friends had apparently been less than pleased to hear of a man hiding among the innocent maidens of the Harem.  Electing to take matters into their own hands, they had cornered Nuriko one night when he was out for a walk, and would've overpowered him if not for his seishi strength and a conveniently-placed rock.  As it was, they'd left a nasty bruise on his wrist, and one of their knives had sliced though his thigh, leaving a thick gash that Nuriko mentioned, later on in the journal, had provided his first--but, he thought darkly, not last--scar.  

Then, after his own careless words had exposed Nuriko to the rest of the Court, the small seishi had endured insults, rotten fruit being thrown at him, dirt being kicked at him, women spitting on him, men threatening him...  The entries spoke of several attempts to injure or kill him, many of which occurred even after the truth of his status as a Suzaku shichiseishi was uncovered, and one of the last entries, astonishingly, told of a man who had actually _broken into_ the eighteen-year-old's chambers and, while he slept, attempted to slit his throat.  That particular entry chilled Hotohori to the bone, nearly as much as did the level of hatred these people seemed to have for a person who had, during the short time they'd known each other, shown him nothing but kindness, compassion, and love.

_Why do they hate him so much?  What is it about Nuriko that scares them so desperately that they would be willing to commit murder to rid themselves of him?  I just don't understand._  _Great Suzaku, these are _my_ people, _my_ subjects, _my _Court!  What have I done so deeply wrong, that they could behave so terribly and not be punished for it?  What have I done wrong that they could think that this was what I _wanted_?_

The tears had been a surprise, trickling down over his cheeks before he realized them.  The sobs, however, rising raggedly from his throat, came with plenty of warning; in a desperate, habitual attempt to avoid his grief being overheard, Hotohori pressed both hands to his face and held them there, breathing deeply to try to push away the tears.  They came anyway, though, and despite the fact that the presence of his hands somewhat muffled the sobs, he couldn't help the thick, gaspy breaths that followed each choked and silent sob.

~*~

"Nuriko-san."

The small seishi paused, gripping the walkway railing to support himself, and managed to twist to look at the adviser.  "Hai, Jokuko-san?" 

The older man was standing a few feet behind him, hands clasped respectfully in front of him, dark robes sweeping against his ankles in a warm afternoon breeze.  He looked, Nuriko thought, very tired and very old.  "Perhaps you should return to Heika-sama's quarters.  To--"  His eyes drifted to the wooden floor beneath them.  "To rest, so your injuries might heal more quickly."  
  


Nuriko felt his eyes widen, but fought the reaction.  "Iie," he said instead, trying to make his voice sound as firm and strong as Hotohori's.  "We have to find him."

Jokuko stared at him for a moment, studying him with narrowed eyes, and then the older man took a few shuffling steps forward, placed his arm around Nuriko's shoulders, and pulled him carefully away from the banister.  "Nuriko-san," Jokuko said quietly, "I appreciate all that you've done, to help us find Saihitei.  But, it has been several hours, and although your insight has been helpful, we may have to admit that he is gone, and simply await his return."

The small seishi shook his head, sending strands of silken violet hair whispering against his cheeks.  "Hotohori-sama wouldn't run away," he whispered fervently.  "I know he wouldn't.  So, he must be around here s--"  Abruptly, he broke off, eyes going wide, lips falling limply apart.  "Do you...do you hear that...?"

Not waiting for an answer, Nuriko broke free of the older man's grip and, gripping his side and wincing, managed to hobble over to the nearby door and lean against it.  They had passed it at least three times over the past few hours, dismissing it as they did the majority of the other unlikely hiding places for the missing emperor, but now that Nuriko stood here, the soft, almost-inaudible sound of sobbing ringing in his ears, he couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of checking here before.

_I was in his room...so, he went to mine.  But, why is he still here? And why is he--?_

Jokuko's eyes were wide.  "I don't hear a--"  He broke off, studying the younger man with narrowed eyes.  "Is he in there, Nuriko-san?" he breathed.

Jaw clenching, Nuriko turned to face the adviser and, biting down on his lower lip to combat the pain in his side, which had been burning painfully for about twenty minutes now, gave him a pleading look.  "Hai," he said, "but let me...let me go in alone.  Please.  I...I know you don't like me much, but Hotohori-sama...  There's something wrong, Jokuko-san, and I think...I-I mean, I don't know if he...if he would want--"  
  


The grey-haired man held up a stopping hand; his next words were soft enough to be barely audible, but Nuriko heard every word.  "I love him, Nuriko," Jokuko said quietly.  "I love him as a son as well as an emperor, and I want only what is best for him.  Do you know what it would do to this country, if it were to become known that he were in love with a man?"  
  


It seemed, for a moment, as if all breath had slipped free of his lungs.  "H-He's not--" he began, but Jokuko cut him off again.

"They would lose respect for him, and perhaps think him too weak to run this country in such dire times as these.  There would be attempts on his life and on his throne such as there have never been before.  Some of them might even come from within the Court, from the very guards sworn to protect him!  No matter what your intentions, Nuriko, I want you to think of that when you go in there and speak with him.  I want you to think of that with each word he speaks and each breath he takes.  And I want you to remember what is more important, your own happiness, or that of Heika-sama and the entire nation.  Now," the man concluded, waving a weary hand at the door, "go.  Be with the one that you love.  But I swear to you, Nuriko, that if you bring harm to him in any way, regardless of how it comes to him or who is the direct cause of it, I will have you executed."

~*~

The click of the knob turning was so quiet that he almost didn't hear it, but there was no mistaking the swish of the door swinging open, or the rustle of footsteps on the carpet.  He knew, of course, that this meant that it was time to stop crying, gather the remaining shreds of his dignity, and hurry along to what remained of his morning audience session, but...for some reason, he just couldn't stop_._  He tried.  He breathed thickly through his clogged nose, trying to still the quavering sobs trembling through his throat; he thought of things that usually made him happy--Miaka, his own sparkling reflection in the mirror--but none of it seemed to help.  The tears--despite how often he'd turned them away in the past--refused to be stilled, and so even though he knew now that he was no longer alone, he could do nothing but press his hands more closely to his face, and let the tears come.

It was no longer just for Nuriko that he cried.  It _was_ for Nuriko, for all the heartache and undeserved hatred that he had--and would have--to suffer through, but it was also, he was beginning to understand, for himself that he cried.  And, he thought dimly, perhaps for the lonely little boy who had been forced to watch life passing by through the glass of a window, whose only joy had been found in dreaming of Suzaku no Miko, of the girl who would come to him one day, love him for who he was, free him of the gilded prison that kept him bound to this throne, this crown, this lonely world...

"H...Hotohori-sama?"  The voice was so small, so hesitant, that he almost didn't recognize it.  "Hotohori-sama, are you...are you all right?"

It was Nuriko.  He had known, somehow, that it would be, but even that realization did nothing to quell the grief within him.  

_I can't...seem to stop crying.  Why can't I stop?_  

After a moment, he felt the weight of Nuriko lowering himself onto the mattress beside him, and then--following a long pause, in which there was no sound but the far-off twitter of birds and the harsh, ragged sound of his own breathing--there was suddenly a warmth against his shoulders and arm.  Startled, Hotohori drew the hands back from his face, thinking that he must look terrible with his puffy, bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and turned towards Nuriko.  He found the older man sitting there beside him, still clad in the satiny blue robe he'd given him, and the violet-haired seishi had stretched one arm around the emperor's broad shoulders, letting his cheek fall gently against the other man's arm.

_He's...he's trying to comfort me, isn't he?  And..._ He shook his head in amazement.  _And it's working, somehow, isn't it?_

They sat like that for a few minutes, Nuriko hugging him tightly, Hotohori staring down at the other man as the grief melted steadily from his heart.  And then, just as his tense shoulders were relaxing, the warmth of Nuriko's touch driving all the tension and anguish from his body, the older man gave a soft sigh, opened his eyes, and drew back.  Only an instant later, Nuriko was on his feet, and was it his imagination, or was that the glisten of a tear in his eye...?  Nuriko turned away before he could tell for sure, however, folding both arms over his stomach and suddenly seeming to find the nearby wall extremely interesting.

"G...Gomen ne, Hotohori-sama," he managed, his voice trembling slightly.  "I didn't mean to barge in on you like that, but...well, your advisers and everyone were looking for you, and I..."  His voice faded away, seeming to lose strength in the middle of the sentence, and as Hotohori watched, those thin shoulders slumped.  "I'm sorry."  Nuriko turned, then, moving gingerly, and looked about to say something--but then, his eyes fixed on the journal, still lying there in the young emperor's lap, and his eyes went wide.  

"You...read my journal?" he asked in a very small voice.  "You...you read it, Hotohori-sama?"  
  


He looked so mortified, so embarrassed and ashamed, that Hotohori got to his feet and moved to the smaller man's side, angry that he could be the cause of such painful feelings.  Nuriko turned away from him as he approached, cheeks flushed and lips pressed tightly together. 

"Nuriko," he said, forcing as much reassurance and sincerity into his voice as he could manage.  "I apologize.  I shouldn't have read it without your permission.  But, I'm..."  His voice went suddenly soft.  "I'm glad that I did.  I had no idea how much you were going through until now.  Nuriko..."  Heart clenching, again, in memory of all that had been done to this man, all the suffering he'd had to put up with just because he was different, the young emperor hesitated, then placed both hands gently on Nuriko's shoulders.  The smaller man tensed at his touch, the shoulders beneath his palms going suddenly rigid, but he did not move away.  "Nuriko," Hotohori continued in a quiet voice, "I wish you'd told me about...what they did to you.  I could have stopped them, or at the very least, placed some sort of guard on you."  
  


Nuriko's head drooped, whispers of violet hair brushing against his cheeks with the motion.  "It wouldn't've helped," he murmured.  He sounded so lost, so beaten, that for a moment, the young emperor had the urge to wrap his arms around him and hold him close, smooth back his hair and make sure that no one ever hurt him again.  Because, gods, he had been hurt so much, and so badly, and he'd never complained, had he?  He'd never complained, never spoken up, never done anything but love and try to _live.._.

"Hotohori-sama, can I ask you a question?"

The words were soft, but seemed to possess a strength that hadn't been there before; as such, it was a long moment before Hotohori could find the breath to reply.  "Hai."  
  


Nuriko's thin shoulders went tense again, jaw clenching as he swallowed; it seemed to take several attempts before he could force the words from his lips.  "Why...why were you...crying?"  
  


He considered lying, or perhaps telling only half of the truth, but there was something about Nuriko's voice, the way he was standing, that was almost...pleading.  Begging.  And despite how deeply he knew that this was a _mistake_, that the repercussions would be with him for the rest of his life, however long it might last...he couldn't seem to find the will to care.  He was exhausted after crying so long and so hard, and here was Nuriko, the source of his grief, the source of his pain, standing here before him with hope in his voice and shame in his eyes, asking for something--begging for something...

Before he had the chance to reconsider, Hotohori tightened his grip on Nuriko's shoulders, spun the smaller man gently to face him, and let his hands cup those pale, tear-stained cheeks.  Nuriko's eyes--the rosy-violet depths of which did, he saw, glisten with tears--were wide and shocked, his mouth hanging slightly open, his eyebrows rising high on his forehead--but he didn't pull away.  He just stood there, arms hanging limp at his sides, and stared up at the young emperor, looking small and uncertain and confused.

And then Hotohori was leaning forwards, pressing his lips gently to Nuriko's own before he even knew what he was doing.  The shorter man made a small sound of surprise, and something inside Hotohori calmly informed him that he was, in fact, kissing a man...but his heart fought back, and assured him that it didn't matter.  

It didn't matter at all.

~*~


End file.
